Oblivion
by FlyingThroughTheStars
Summary: ob·liv·i·on: the state of forgetting or of being oblivious · Lottie Ainsworth can't remember how she got a community service sentence. All she can remember is waking up the next morning with blood drenched clothes. Lottie must face the struggles of her developing anorexia, discover her power and find out what truly happened on that night. · {Eventual Simon x OC}
1. Chapter 1: We Should Be Dead

**Warning: Contains anorexia, violence and swearing.**

**A/N: Hello! Welcome to my first Misfits fic. This isn't an exact replica of Misfits series 1 and 2 but with an O/C, I'm going to be keeping some of the original plot and making my own plot too. So sorry for leaving out bits and pieces. Hope you enjoy, please leave a review so I can identify my strong points and build on my weaknesses and stuff. Yeah. **

* * *

_My vision is blurred, mind delusional and clouded by vodka and pills. I find myself clutching a knife in one unsteady hand. I frown, unable to concentrate on what's going on. Then I notice all the red. It's dripping from my hands and it's streaked down the front of my shirt. I finally realise; the knife is lodged in the stomach of a man, blood seeping from the wound and trickling from between his lips. I release my grasp on the knife as if it's red hot, he crumples to the ground, eyes shrouded in a mixture of shock, confusion and pain in an unblinking stare. He's dead. I've killed him._

* * *

My eyes snap open to the comforting sight of my bedroom; it's almost completely dark apart from a small area illuminated by the sun beaming in through the gap in the curtains. There's a cold sweat all over my body and all my limbs shudder. I turn over and bury my face into the pillow and choke out a few muffled sobs, a regular occurrence, almost weekly, after having the same nightmare repetitively.

After my little undignified crying session, I haul myself out of bed and groan at the anticipation of what today holds. Today is my first day of community service. I've got 200 hours of picking up litter ahead of me, plus an ASBO and ankle tag for a crime I don't even remember committing; smashing up someone's windows. That's something that I would never even dream of doing whilst sober, I assure you.

I take a quick wash and I'm about to get dressed when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. The skin all over my body is pale, contrasting dramatically with my deep mahogany dyed hair. I sigh at the pitiful sight of my chest, barely anything there. I run my index finger along the side of my torso and trace the individual rungs of my ribs with a smile. Then I suck in my stomach so much so my ribs and hipbones jut out. I love the way the bone protrudes from the skin. I suppose I'm skinny, I just wish my bones were a tiny bit more visible. It looks better that way.

I quit my navel-gazing and pick out some clothes, settling for a denim skater skirt since the weather's nice today, a cream lace top, to tuck into the skirt, along with a pair of white plimsolls. I do my make-up, not forgetting to apply a touch of eyeliner with a little wing, and take my hair out of the bun it's been in all night so it's all curls and waves that rest just above my chest. With one parting look in the mirror, I leave the apartment, stomach churning partly out of fear, partly out of hunger from lack of breakfast.

The community centre overlooks a lake which in turn overlooks blocks of apartments, one of which I live in. This area is sort of lovely, in an urban, bleak kind of way. Another boy a few paces ahead of me is also walking towards the community centre. He's the image of a stereotypical miscreant; shaved head, snapback, a bargain-basement gold chain around his neck and a face not dissimilar to that of a rat's. Fear strikes in my stomach and I feel sick, seeing this guy has only reaffirmed all my fears. I hold behind to let myself calm down whilst I watch the boy enter the community centre. Deep breaths… deep breaths.

I walk into the building to be greeted by a dark-skinned man with a stocky build.

"Name?" he grunts.

"Lottie Ainsworth." I reply in a small voice.

The man looks me up and down and hands me an orange jumpsuit. "I'm Tony, your probation worker. The rest of the offenders are in there," he gestures to the locker room. "Go and get changed and be outside in 5 minutes."

I nod, taking the hideous coloured jumpsuit and follow his instructions. There's little communication in the locker room but I succeed in slipping in unperceived. I survey the room, taking a look around at the people I'll be involuntarily sharing the next few weeks of my life with.

The rat-faced boy I spotted on the way in is adjusting the angle of his cap and shooting scowls of malice at everyone between narrowed eyes.

A typically gorgeous girl with skin the colour of milky coffee is admiring herself in the mirror, making sure everyone is getting a good view of her boobs while she plumps up her frizzy hair.

There's one more girl – an unmistakable chav – who's scraping her limp, light brown hair back into a tight ponytail. Her hair is scraped back so hard that I'm worried she's going to pull the skin clean off her scalp.

A fairly cute bloke catches my eye, he has a full head of dark curls and large brown eyes to match. A spliff rests between his lips as he zips up his jumpsuit. Now, he doesn't seem to bad.

Another boy stands at the back of the locker room, almost unnoticeable, smoothing down his hair. He comes across as rather uptight and shy and his eyes are fixed in a persistent stare which I must admit is creeping me out slightly. I imagined that I'd be the shy, quiet member of the group but now I've been pipped to the post for that title.

I recognise the remaining boy as Curtis Donovan, an Olympic destined athlete who ended up with a community service sentence for something to do with drugs.

Once I finish analysing my fellow offenders, I quickly slip out of clothes and stab my legs, then arms into the jumpsuit and zip it up to my. It's a little long around the legs so I roll the fabric up to my ankles but not so high that my ankle tag is on show.

"Hurry up! I want you all outside now!" the probation worker orders, voice booming.

Everyone makes their way out of the locker room and I'm just about to also leave when a wave of dizziness comes over me. My body isn't used to the recent lack of food I've been exposing it to, I suppose. It just needs time to adjust. I close my eyes and clutch onto the wall to keep myself steady so I don't keel over. After a few moments rest, I open my eyes, startled to see the creepy boy staring at me, it's quite unnerving.

"Are… are you alright?" he stutters out, the corners of his lips quivering in what I believe is an attempt at a smile.

"Yeah I'm fine." I flash him a small grin of thanks. "Just a bit dizzy, didn't have any breakfast."

"Do you… do you want me to buy you something from the vending machine?"

I shake my head and walk outside to join the rest of the delinquents. His concern is sweet, I guess, but it would probably be sweeter if he didn't have to stare with such intensity.

"How lovely of you two to finally join us!" Tony says, his words practically dripping with sarcasm.

The other five are leaning against the metal railings, an equally blank and bored expression on each of their faces. I promptly make my way over to the end of the huddle and stand next to the gorgeous girl with the frizzy hair. The quiet boy tags on the end of the line.

"This is it. This is your chance to do something positive," the probationer worker begins. I bet he regurgitates the same lame speech each time he gets a new bunch of offenders. As if any of these lot are paying a scrap of attention, they'll just do their community service, go back to their lives, then re-offend and end up back in community service again."Give something back. You can help people. You can really make a difference to people's lives. That's what community service is all about. There are people out there who think you're scum. You have the opportunity to prove them wrong."

The pretty boy with the curls chimes in with an Irish accent that just screams cheeky, "Yeah, but what if they're right?" he says, placing a hand on the shoulder of the rat-faced boy, who didn't look too pleased to say the least. "I mean, no offence, but I'm thinking some people are just born criminals." He finishes, gesturing towards the boy who seemed to be getting more riled by the minute.

"You lookin' to get stabbed?" The rat-faced boy juts his chin out aggressively.

"You see my point there!"

There's the sound of a phone ringing and the gorgeous girl immediately fishes her phone out her pocket and answers the call with a nonchalant "Hey."

"It doesn't matter what you've done in the past," the probation worker tries to resume his speech. Meanwhile, gorgeous girl is having her own private phone conversation. "Hey! Excuse me! Hello! I'm still talking here!"

"What? I thought you'd finished!" she replied, still making no attempt to end the conversation.

"Do you see my lips still moving? That means I'm still talking!"

"Yeah, but you could've been yawnin'... or chewing." the boy with the curls drawls with a smug smirk plastered across his face.

"End the call! Hang up!" Tony barks.

The gorgeous girl concludes her conversation, casually playing with a strand of light brown hair between her fingers, not in the least bothered.

"Y'alright there, weird kid?" the curly boy taunts, addressing the boy to my left, who looks quite wounded by that comment. "How about you, twiglet?" he adds, flashing me a grin that could turn milk sour. _Twiglet? _Seriously? I'm about as skinny as him.

I opt to keep my mouth firmly shut until the curly boy turns his attention back to rat features, mockingly blowing him a kiss. He only responds with some sort of threat involving ripping and shitting. Positively charming.

"I shouldn't even be here." Curtis mutters.

"Look, we need to work as a team here!" the probation worker declares. Curly boy and rat face don't seem to be paying much attention though, they both looks more focused on fighting each other. "Hey! That's enough!"

"Can I move to a different group? This isn't gonna work for me." Curtis announces to Tony, as good as looking down his nose at all of us.

"Erm, wot makes ya fink that ya better than os?" the chav says in an accent so thick and hard to understand that I can't help a snigger escaping my lips. She turns to me and glares, "Oi, wot d'ya fink ya laughin' at?" I raise my hands up defensively in response.

"Yeah, what _is _that accent?" curly boy jeers.

"Is that for real?" questions Curtis.

"Erm if ya tryin' to say somefin' than ya." the chav snaps back at us.

"That's just a noise! Are we supposed to be able to understand her?" curly boy continues.

"Do ya understand that?" she makes an obscene gesture at curly boy.

He doesn't cease to mock though, "I think she likes me!" he grins, an arm around rat face's shoulder. Rat face proceeds to grab curly boy by the collar of his overalls before he has to be wrenched away by the probation worker, still shouting abuse while curly takes the piss. What a brilliant introduction to community service.

* * *

We all dawdle down the river bank, cans of paint in hand, having just been forced to do one of those piss poor introduction exercises where you say your name and one fact about yourself. You can probably guess that it didn't go to plan. I can't help but feel isolated after the previous demonstration of all their brash personalities back there by the railings. I mean, there's that Simon guy but I'm not quite at his low level of crippling shyness and lack of confidence, just a few levels up. So, I guess I'm just drifting in between.

We eventually reach a row of three benches so Curtis and Alisha, the gorgeous girl, begin to paint the first bench together, curly Nathan, Kelly the chav and rat faced Gary paint the second bench which leaves me and the strange Simon to paint the remaining bench. It's an easy, although tedious task but I'm certain more grueling days of scraping up dog shit are ahead of me.

Gary, however, fails to find this simple task so simple. After not even five whole minutes of painting, he flies off the handle when he smears some paint on his oh-so-precious cap, kicking a can of paint into the lake in the process. resulting in white splattered across the pavement. As he leaves - to go back to the community centre for a sulk, no doubt - Gary gives a stray shopping trolley a feeble push that sets off sniggers. I admit, he is pretty hilarious. I can't believe I thought he was so tough at first, I can't believe I was actually _scared _of that loser. Turns out he's just a failing wannabe who's all bark and no bite.

Everyone begins their own conversations, Alisha evidently flirting with Curtis, leaning over the bench at just the right angle so half of her tits are clearly visible for Curtis, should his eyes wander where they shouldn't. Simon and I paint in silence, he's crouched behind the bench, precisely painting ever painstaking inch with one hand, the other clasped over his knees. I'm sitting with crossed legs on the pavement, haphazardly slapping paint on the front of the bench, although most of the paint has somehow ended up all over the front of my jumpsuit. Great. I'll have to wash that off later.

"What about you, weird kid?" Nathan asks Simon. "Don't take this the wrong way or anythin' but you look like a panty sniffer." He then proceeds to mime sniffing a pair of pants, in case we were unaware of what a panty sniffer was. God, why do all the cute guys have to be such jerks?

"I'm not a panty sniffer." Simon mumbles, though the tone he's saying that isn't very convincing. "I'm not a pervert." he insists.

Nathan holds the paintbrush in his hands at crotch level and shakes it back and forth while gyrating, pretending to wank himself off. I glance at Simon, I can tell he's discouraged by the remarks and desperately trying to ignore Nathan's crude mimes. Simon needs to learn to stand up for himself, he's only being ridiculed because he comes across as so timid and vulnerable. It's arrogant twats like Nathan who are at their prime when meeting guys like Simon. Sure, I don't seem to be the loudest girl in the pack but when the time comes, I'm not afraid to speak out and fend off the cunts.

"Just fuck off!" I scream whilst Nathan is mid-wank. Everyone turns and looks at me, all taken aback by my newfound backbone. Even I'm surprised I had the courage to scream at him so harshly.

"Alright, twiglet, calm down, I'll leave your boyfriend alone." Nathan replies, breaking the short moment of silence.

"My name ain't twiglet and he ain't my boyfriend. Got that?"

"Got that." he echoes, still a tone of mockery in his words. He goes back to painting his bench for a few seconds, before turning to me and resuming the exchange. "So why exactly are _you _here? You seem like the silent but deadly type. You know, a bit like a fart."

I open my mouth to reply but promptly close it again, deciding it's best if I just shut up. Nathan realises I'm a lost cause and instead turns to the sky, "What is goin' on with this weather?" he says.

I look up as well, to see the clear, blue sky is gradually vanishing, masked by a great black cloud which casts ominous shadows across the blocks of flats ahead.

"How'd that happen?" a voice ahead of me asks. I wheel around on my toes, the probation worker is scowling at the splatter of white paint on the pavement. "I mean, you've been here five minutes. It's painting benches, how'd you screw that up? You tell me because I've got no idea."

Out of nowhere, a chunk of what looks like ice, not unlike a hailstone but easily five times the size of a football, descends from the sky like a meteor and smashes into a car behind Tony. My instinctive reaction is to shriek at the top of my lungs and back the fuck up, the car alarm blaring away all the while. Simon fumbles around in his pocket and retrieves his phone to film the giant hailstone - to quote Ron Weasley, he needs to sort out his priorities - while Tony is murmuring to himself in disbelief, "That's my car…" repeatedly.

"Classic!" Nathan grins, apparently finding this entire situation hilarious. As soon as the words leave his mouth, yet another hailstone plummets into the lake. "Okay, so I'm a little bit freaked out." Nathan admits.

"What is that?" Alisha shouts, gaping up at the swelling black cloud that's plunging the sky into darkness.

A third lump of ice falls down just in front of me and Simon, landing in a dumpster, sending it tumbling the the ground. I back away as fast as my legs will allow. These mysterious gigantic hailstones are hurtling from the sky all around us now and we all take off. We're careering towards the community centre, racing for our lives lest one of us gets obliterated to a pulp by a chunk of ice. Me and Simon are tailing on the end, he seems more intent on recording this occurrence whereas I'm just running and running and running. My heart is beating so hard I can feel each separate beat pulsating throughout my entire body, I'm already worn out but my legs refuse to stop.

I bound up the steps to the community centre, bringing up the rear. Curtis immediately lunges for the door, tugging at the handles but they won't open. The probation worker scrabbles around with his keys, trying to find the right one whilst I'm sidestepping around these falling wedges of ice.

"Open the door!" Nathan presses.

"What is 'appenin'?" Kelly demands, hands over head protectively. "What is 'appenin'?"

"Open the door!" Curtis repeats, more loudly.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Alisha screeches at him.

Tony stops scrambling with the keys and turns on his heel, advancing on her, "Don't speak to me like that!" he shouts, face screwed up in frustration.

Before Tony even has a chance to try to open the door again, everything is eclipsed in complete darkness and my body is propelled off of the step and hurled backwards into the air. A bolt of lightning strikes me in the core of my stomach, the flash of it so bright I wince and screw up my eyes. As the bolt strikes, I feel a peculiar tingling sensation spread from my stomach, throughout my whole body and seep into the very marrow of my bones.

My back smacks into the pavement, I open my eyes and the darkness has lifted. My body is throbbing with electricity. We each let out a series of groans before slowly managing to sit up.

"I feel really weird." Kelly says.

"Me too." I reply between groaning.

"We should be dead." Simon says. He's right. We should be. Yet, somehow, we're not. Something makes me think that storm was no ordinary storm, I mean, what are the chances of all six of us getting struck by lightning and not one of us dying? Pretty slim, I imagine.

"Hey there!" Nathan snaps his fingers to grab the probation worker's attention. "A little reassurance might be nice, 'You're fine!' 'Lookin' good!'"

Tony doesn't look the picture of health either, to be frank. "Wa-wanker." he moans out of the side of his lopsided mouth, looking more like he's suffered a stroke of some sort with his head lolling around as if there's not a bone in his neck. I frown and raise a hand to my aching forehead.

"Did he just call me a wanker?" Nathan questions, astonished.

"We could have died, you dick." Alisha adds.

"Are y'alright? Ya actin' like a freak." Kelly asks, obviously noticing the strange, uncontrollable grunting noises he's making.

"Maybe we should call it a day." he declares through gritted teeth.

Simon pulls himself up and shakily wipes his palms on the front of his overalls, blinking a few times. He offers me a slightly clammy hand to help me up, to which I gratefully accept. We trudge back into the locker room and I slip out of my paint stained jumpsuit, stuffing it into my backpack to take it home to wash, then I quickly put my skirt and top back on and head out into the hallway.

"Can we just go then? Where's the probation worker?" Curtis asks, I shrug in response. How should I know?

"There's something wrong with him, it was like he was having a spasm." says Simon, seeming rather uptight.

"He was probably just fakin' it, tryin' to get some compensation, cheap bastard." Nathan scoffs.

"I don't think he was faking it." Simon says, glancing up from his phone.

"Yeah, that sounds more like something you'd do." I add, flashing a derisive smile at Nathan.

"Well," Nathan begins, an equally smug, shit-eating smile on his face. He leans in close to Simon so their faces are just a few uncomfortable inches away from each other. "You'd know all about bein' _mental_." He pronounces that word in such a way that he makes it sound like the most disgusting thing a person is capable of being. He then proceeds to do an unnecessary impersonation of the probation worker, "W-w-wanker!"

I step in between them, glaring up at Nathan with the best scowl I can muster. God, those eyes are hard to scowl at. Talk about _dreamy_, those eyes are hypnotic. "Didn't I tell you to fuck off earlier?"

"Yes, you did. I see that more as an option, not an order. So I chose not to fuck off."

"Prick." I mutter, backpedalling.

"Are we waiting for something?" Alisha strolls out of the locker room and asks.

"Probation worker." Curtis replies.

"Not hanging around for that dickhead." she states, before turning on her heel and leaving.

The feeling is mutual. After the morning I've had, all I want is to go home and curling up on the bean bag with a book. Curtis, Nathan, Alisha and Simon are heading out of the door and I follow suit.

"Which way are you walking?" Simon asks as he holds open the door for me.

I thank him and point to a block of flats across from the lake. "That's where I live, so I'm going right."

"My house is just before there. C-can I - would it be okay if I - do you want me to walk with you?" he proposes, his crippling lack of confidence clear as a bell.

"Sure." I say with a gracious smile. It's nice to know that there's at least one friendly person among our group of wrongdoers, although he can be a tad creepy at times.

"Are you feeling better now?" Simon questions as we walk down the path together.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry."

"Why didn't you have breakfast?"

"Oh, I just forgot."

"When was the last time you ate?"

Why was he persisting so much? I felt my cheeks flush scarlet, how could he go from stuttering on every sentence to a fucking full scale investigation within the space of a few seconds? "Um… sometime yesterday. Could have been the day before. I can't remember." I reply with nervous laughter. For fuck's sake, Lottie. Why did you have to go and tell him that? Now he'll think that I'm the weirdo.

He looked at me, his brow furrowed and his eyes seemed to show genuine concern. "Why?"

I can't bring myself to tell the truth, I scour my brain for some excuse that would be a plausible reason for not eating for two days but I can't think of a thing. It's not exactly regular behaviour. I've only just met the guy, why should I have to spill all my private business and concerns to him? It's not fucking honesty hour. I tear my gaze away from those pitiful eyes and mutter something about being late before sprinting off down the path. I could still feel his stare burning into my back until I turned a corner and ran the rest of the way home.


	2. Chapter 2: He's Going To Kill Us

**Warning: Contains anorexia, violence and swearing.**

**A/N: Hi! I got around to writing a second chapter. Let's hope I can keep this up for another few weeks. I'd just like to clarify, if this fic bears any resemblance to any other Misfits fic out there, it's purely coincidental. There's only a certain number of ways you can rewrite a pre-existing story and I've started to read some fics by other authors and I'm finding small phrases and scenarios that could look like I've stolen them. I promise I haven't! Once this part of the story is over, hopefully most of the storyline will be original. Hope you enjoy chapter 2, don't forget to review!**

* * *

I'm furiously scrubbing at the orange material with a damp washcloth but the white paint stain refuses to fade. I glance at the clock, cursing under my breath when I realise I only have 5 minutes until my second day of community service begins. I bundle the jumpsuit into my backpack and sprint out of the door and all the way to the community centre. Once I'm there, the dizzy feeling in my head reminds me eating breakfast slipped my mind again. At least I had a mug of Cup-a-Soup to drink last night. I know it's not much but at least it's something.

There's already a buzz of conversation between the other five, who are all staring at the community centre's latest artwork; "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU" is painted in red across the wall. Wait. There are only five of them. Who's not here? I scour the faces before me and notice Gary is missing. However, his absence soon escapes my mind when I join the conversation.

"This is a joke! Did one of you do this?" Curtis accuses, immediately assuming it's one of us.

"Don't look at me cos I didn't do it." Kelly promptly defends herself.

"Me neither." I add, for good measure.

"Me neither." Simon repeats.

Curtis raises his eyebrows at Alisha, making it obvious what he's implying.

"I don't know why you're looking at me like that, it wasn't me." she snaps without her eyes leaving her phone screen.

"I'll tell you who did it, it's that Banksy prick. It's a hidden meanin'." Nathan says.

"A hidden meaning?" I snort. "You know, I can't tell if you're being sarcastic half the time or if you're actually really fucking dumb." Once the words leave my mouth I can't believe how cocky I sound, where does this sudden burst of confidence come from when I'm around Nathan? Maybe it's because he's such a stupid twat, it's just my spontaneous reaction. It's weird how lately my confidence fluctuates so much, one minute I'm all reserved and too fearful to utter a single word, the next I'm up in some curly wanker's face giving him lip.

"No, no, no… it's like that monkey policeman with the banana and the Tesco's bag." Nathan says whilst encircling an arm around Simon's shoulder, only further proving my point.

"Maybe someone wants to kill us." Simon whimpers.

"'And why would anybody want to kill os?" Kelly demands.

I roll my eyes, why are they taking it so seriously? It'll just turn out to be a gang of hoodlums, much like ourselves, who thought it would be a laugh to give a few people a fright with the kind of plot device more befitting of some run-of-the-mill horror movie.

"Right come on, you lot, let's get changed." the probation worker orders as soon as he arrives, today he doesn't look so much like a freak, as Kelly so delicately put it yesterday. No maniacal eyes or askew mouth, yet the anger issues seem to have remained.

"Have you seen this?" Curtis growls, nodding towards the graffiti. "Someone's taking the piss."

"Yeah it's terrible isn't it? All this anti social behaviour." Tony mocks, clearly this is the least of his concerns.

"Oh? Is he havin' a dig at us?" Nathan quips.

The ringing of a phone sounds at that precise moment, no prizes for guessing who it belongs to.

"Right, that's it!" Tony thunders. "All of you just give me your phones, no one's making anymore calls today. Now, come on!"

He extends his arm out in front of Alisha, ready for her to put the phone in his hand. Instead she makes an insolent remark before snapping a photo of the scowling probation worker. He snatches the phone from her grasp. Curtis, Kelly and Simon then each hand their phones over with reluctance.

"I'm expecting a call from my mum." Nathan pleads, this doesn't stop Tony from seizing the phone. "Okay, take a message!"

The probation worker finally stops at me, hand out, expecting me to shove my phone into his hand just like that.

"I don't have a phone." I tell him, to which I see Alisha's mouth fall open as if not possessing a mobile phone is the crime of the century.

He shakes his head in disbelief, then proceeds to rudely search the pockets of my cardigan and jeans, to find nothing. I flash him a sickly sweet smile and traipse off to the changing rooms, the other five following me, not before Kelly spits "Wanker!" in the probation worker's face.

"Is he allowed to take our phones?" Nathan grumbles while we're getting changed. "He's probably using them to call one of those sex lines." One of those sex lines which I'm sure you have an extended knowledge on, Nathan.

I put on my jumpsuit as quickly as possible, not wishing for anyone to see me in just my underwear. I can't bear the thought of the kind of comments Nathan would come out with, probably something along the lines of "tiny titties" or the like. I zip up my jumpsuit, customised with a lovely white paint stain I obtained yesterday, and arrange the few belongings in my locker, vaguely listening to the conversation.

"Those sex lines will eat your credit." Curtis says, by the sounds of it I shouldn't think he's a stranger to these so-called sex lines.

"Call them a lot, do you?" Alisha teases, voicing my thoughts.

"He's out there feeling himself on our phones, naked. Masturbating." Nathan grins.

"_Please_ spare me the image." I say, faking gagging noises.

"Sensitive, are we?" he taunts, taking a few steps closer so that he looms over me. "Picture this: he's in that office right now, listening to one of those girls make noises of pure _pleasure _over the phone. He's rubbing his huge, hairy-" I clench a fist and thump Nathan hard on the arm, he lets out a rather feminine yelp of pain. "What did you do that for?" he splutters out, voice almost as strident as his scream. "I mean, wasn't that doing anything for you?"

"I just didn't want you to say-"

"Cock!" Nathan exclaims, finishing my sentence.

I groan and turn away, talk about immaturity, trailing behind Alisha, Kelly and Curtis out of the locker room and to the front of the building, collecting a bucket of water and scrubbing brush as I go.

"Suppose we better get started then." I sigh, heading over to the large red letter 'G' at the end of 'GOING'.

Kelly begins scrubbing the 'K', Nathan one of the 'L's, Curtis the 'O' and Alisha moseys over to a bench at the end, unzipping her jumpsuit, donning some shades to soak up the rays of the bleak London sunshine.

Just because she's a typically beautiful girl she thinks she can do whatever the fuck she likes, I hate girls like her. They're beautiful and they know it, so they use their beauty to manipulate men. Right now, Curtis is giving her lip for not doing any work. All Alisha has to do is give a laidback reply with a sexy smirk to get her out of it.

"Feel free to check out my tits, yeah?" she says with a pout, Curtis' eyes must be lingering where they shouldn't be. Admittedly, Alisha body is gorgeous. With bronze skin, a slim waist and curves in all the right places, no wonder she has Curtis ogling.

I return to scrubbing at the graffiti, which much like the stain on my jumpsuit, seems to be ingrained into the brick wall. A very pale, wide eyed Simon emerges from the community centre a minute or so later. Confessedly, I didn't even notice his disappearance, he's so quiet and withdrawn that it's hard to notice whether he's here or not half the time. Let's hope I won't get badgered so much today.

"Y'alright?" I ask. His response is a twitchy, half-hearted nod, before he turns to scrub the letter 'T' in a very particular up and down action.

"Ya know after the storm? Did any of yous lot feel, like, dead weird?" queries Kelly.

"Yeah, I had a strange tinglin' sensation in my anus." Nathan informs her with a worried tone.

We all return to our scrubbing for a moment before Kelly approaches Simon, "What, did you feel weird?" she says, like she's replying to something Simon has just said, despite him being silent the entire time.

"You don't want to hear about my anus?" Nathan insists, one hand clasped on each arse cheek.

"Do you really need to ask the question?" Curtis says.

"Something happened." Simon murmurs.

"What's that? Squeak up!" Nathan taunts.

"Something happened to me."

"Are you a virgin? Hi ho!"

"Shut up!" Kelly and I yell in unison. The smirk on Nathan's face falters and he resumes cleaning the wall.

"What was it?" Kelly questions Simon.

"Nothing." Simon replies, Nathan having put a damper on his confession.

Out of the blue, Kelly turns around and pushes Nathan, allowing him to trip over his bucket, red water splashing all over the floor like blood. Oh god, why does my mind have to come up with such macabre similes? I could have thought anything from cherryade to… Okay, fair enough. Maybe there aren't many things that resemble blood so well. I quit the mental scolding and let myself off.

"What was that for?" he shouts in bewilderment after Kelly, who storms off down the path in a temper. "What is it with girls abusin' me?"

"Maybe if you didn't act like a total dick all the time, you wouldn't wind up with any bruises." I state with a sigh of irritation.

He tosses his scrubbing brush in my bucket, splashing my trouser legs with dirty water. This jumpsuit is starting to look more like one belonging to a painter and decorator by the minute.

"As much as I'm lovin' this," Nathan sneers, tossing me a dirty look. "I'm goin' to go for lunch. Anyone else comin'?" He saunters back into the community centre. We all mumble a "yeah" and make our way back into the unusually empty building.

"Where's the probation worker?" I ask.

"How are we supposed to know?" Alisha retorts. "Anyway, who gives a shit? Without him we can do whatever the fuck we like."

They each take it in turns to slot a coin into the vending machine and grab a packet of crisps or a bar of chocolate. Seeing them eat only reminds me of how hungry I am. I manage to sneak away into the main hall unobserved, where I crawl under the foosball table to be alone with my thoughts. When I was little, I always used to hide in small places, inside cupboard, under tables, whenever my parents were arguing. Something about the crampedness offered a sliver of comfort for me. I tell myself that I'll eat a proper meal tonight although I know that's not going to happen. I wish I could start eating normally again but now I've started fasting and losing weight it's hard to stop.

My thought process is interrupted when I see three pairs of feet approach the foosball table and two of them start a game. Oh, fuck. Just my luck. Over the sound of the rolling plastic ball and the clunks of the miniature footballers kicking, I hear their conversation. There's no way I can crawl back out now, but the longer I stay here the more of a freak they'll think I am if they happen to find me. I opt to make as little sound as possible and wait it out until the coast is clear.

"In distribution terms, I think we've gotten quite lucky, although it would be nice if even more women committed crimes." Nathan says. I can see where this is going. "You know, it's not very considerate from our point of view, right? We deserve a wider selection."

"What are you talking about?" Curtis asks in confusion.

"The distribution of the men and the _ladies_." he explains, I can almost picture him wiggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively as he says that final word. "I mean, three of us, three of them, that's worked out pretty neatly."

"There was four of us." Simon interjects.

"I'm talkin' about gettin' laid." Nathan continues, ignoring Simon. "So how are we goin' to do this, man?"

"Do what?" Curtis questions, bemused.

"Assign a girl to each guy. 'Cos I got to tell you, the one with all the frizzy hair, I don't see me and her gettin' it on."

"Because she's beautiful?"

"No, because she'd be way too much effort, she looks seriously high maintenance, man. You'd have to treat her really well!" Nathan says. The more he says, the more of a total twat he's making himself sound. I bet he's never maintained a relationship for longer than a day with that attitude towards women, if this isn't a classic example of the objectification of women, then what is? "But those other two.." I hear him clicking his fingers, attempting to recall the names of Kelly and I.

"Lottie and Kelly." Simon utters. I can even tell by the tone of his voice that he's disgusted.

"Whatever. Lottie, the little skinny one, I probably would." he continues. I'm so flattered.

"Yeah, I suppose she's alright." Curtis comments. 'I _suppose_ she's _alright_.' Wow. Thanks for the confidence boost.

"Yeah, but I'd be worried if I fucked her too hard she'd just snap right in half, you know?" Nathan adds with a laugh. I have to stop myself from emerging from underneath the table and slapping him across the face.

"I've seen skinnier girls, man." says Curtis. "It's just 'cos she's flat-chested."

"Whatever. Anyway, the way she screamed at me yesterday! She's probably a screamer in the bedroom too, if you know what I mean." I bet he's got that annoying, begging-to-be-smacked, shit-eating grin on his smug little face right now.

"Of course I know what you mean. You couldn't have made it any clearer, prick."

"W-well I think that she's gorgeous." Simon states. I can't help but feel a smile seep across my face. Maybe the creep isn't so bad after all.

"That's settled then, you can get twiggy, Curtis can get frizzy and I'll help myself to the chav." Nathan concurs. The way he's phrasing this makes the whole procedure sound disgusting. "I mean, a couple of Bacardi breezers, man, I reckon she'd be good to go. I might need more than a couple myself, but who's countin'?"

Nathan twists one of the foosball table handles and the ball flies over the edge of the pitch and under the table, rolling towards my foot. I don't have time to roll it back out again. Fuck. Simon crouches down to retrieve the ball, he jumps up as soon as he claps eyes on me, hitting his head rather comically on the edge of the table and making a squeak of astonishment.. I press a finger to my lips, indicating for him to keep his mouth shut, and silently pass him the ball. He takes it and places it back on the pitch.

"What was all that about?" Nathan jeers, I hear him do a mimicry of Simon's squeak.

"Nothing." Simon replies, quite unconvincingly.

"Anyway, back to the girls. Do we have a deal?" There's the sound of Nathan spitting on his hand which he's probably holding out for Curtis to shake.

"No." Curtis declines in repulsion.

"What about you then?" he says to Simon.

Simon must wordlessly reject the offer too.

"Fine, then maybe I'll take all three of them then."

"Yeah, I see that happening." Curtis scoffs.

"Yeah, you will see it and then you'll be sorry you didn't accept the deal. And then who's laughin'? Me." and with that, he gives the foosball table a hit and stalks off.

"What did he get done for?" Curtis asks Simon once Nathan has left.

"He said he was done for eating some Pic 'n' Mix."

"Prick." Curtis curses, before also going out into the hallway.

I only scramble out from under the table once I hear the door slam shut, indicating that Curtis and Nathan have gone.

"What were you doing under there?" Simon frowns.

"I… I was just…" Whichever way I explain this I'm going to come off as weird. "I came in here to think, to get away from all of that lot. Then you came in and I was stuck under the table."

I pull myself up properly and the sudden movement causes my eyes to start slipping in and out of focus. White patches are forming in my vision and all I feel like doing is falling asleep. I can barely see Simon's lips moving, he's saying something to me but I can't hear him properly. The white patches fill up all of my vision before fading to black.

It feels like I'm waking up from a long sleep, my eyelids feel like they've got the weight of the world on them and my head's all groggy. As I open my eyes, I find myself on the floor of the community centre with Simon crouching over me.

"How did I end up here?" I'm disorientated, I can't remember what happened. Did I fall asleep here or something?

"You fainted, but I managed to catch you and lay you down." Simon replies with a concerned expression on his face. "Sh-should I call an ambulance? Are you okay?"

"No, don't call an ambulance." I say, a little too hastily. "I'm fine." I insist, slowly pulling myself up, denying Simon's help to prove that I'm perfectly okay. "And don't you dare tell the others about this."

He weakly nods and I make my way slowly out of the hall, willing for the dizziness in my head to diminish.

"Please eat." he shouts after me, my hand hovering over the door handle.

I retract my hand and sigh, turning on my heel. Simon is shuffling towards me. "Please eat." he repeats. "Please, I'll get you something from the vending machine."

The realisation that I can't go forever without any food is dawning on me and it's painful. But part of me is happy that I fainted, that I'm feeling this way. Because that part of me knows that it's working. I fainted because it's working.

"Fine." I give in. It won't hurt too much to have something small.

Simon's face softens and we walk to the vending machine in the hallway together.

"What do you want?" he asks.

I scan over the snacks lined up in neat rows in the machine but all I can see are clumps of calories wrapped in packets. Cheese Doritos? No, they're too cheesy and fatty. Salt and Vinegar Hula Hoops? No, they're too salty. Why don't vending machines ever have fruit in them?

I stop my inner Goldilocks-like conflict and eventually decide to have a packet of those "light" crisps; low salt, low fat and the like. Simon slides a few coins into the machine and I punch the correct number in and watch my packet of crisps fall down. I snatch them up from the vending machine opening and sit cross legged on the floor, leaning against the blue sofa. Simon sits down on the floor next to me, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Alisha is lounging on the sofa opposite, absentmindedly fiddling with the top of her water bottle while Nathan furiously shakes the vending machine until a can of cola falls out. Curtis collects up all the buckets and brushes and tidies them away in the corner.

"When I was in sixth form, you came to my school." Alisha declares to Curtis. "You gave this big talk about athletics and all your medals and that."

I open up my packet of crisps and begin slowly and tentatively chewing at the flavourless things.

"So, I'm guessin' you're not goin' to the Olympics?" Nathan jeers. He's found a wheelchair which he's slumped back in, smirking and sipping on cola.

"Funny." Curtis snarls.

"I heard he was dealing crack." Alisha breaks in.

"What? I wasn't dealing crack!"

"No, no, no. The papers said it was steroids." Nathan continues to provoke.

Alisha sucks her teeth, "That stuff will shrivel your dick."

"It wasn't steroids. I'm not a cheat. That stuff in the papers was bullshit." Curtis retaliates, anger brewing.

"So what was it then?"

He hesitates. "I got caught with a little bit of coke. Alright? I messed up one time."

Nathan tuts sarcastically.

"No one gets community service for possession." Alisha says knowledgeably. I wouldn't have known something like that. I've never taken drugs in my entire life, apart from that one night that resulted in me winding up here. I don't even know what the fuck those pills I took were. I can't even remember how I got them.

"If it was anyone else, they'd have got a caution. I get 200 hours' community service and a _two-year_ ban from athletics. They said 'cos of my profile they needed to 'send a message'." Curtis says through gritted teeth.

"You let yourself down." Nathan sneers. Alisha may laugh but Curtis doesn't look happy at all. "You let the kids down. You let your parents down."

Curtis is like Nathan's can of cola. Every time they make a comment, it's like someone is shaking the can. They keep shaking and shaking until...

"Shut the fuck up!" Curtis explodes, making me jump in shock, he grabs Nathan by the collars of his jumpsuit. "All I ever did was train! You know nothing! I shouldn't even fucking be here!"

"You can't hit someone in a wheelchair." Nathan splutters. Curtis lets go of him and pushes the wheelchair into the wall.

Simon and I exchange a glance.

Alisha breaks the momentary silence. "Does anyone want to hear what I got done for?"

"Not really." Nathan replies.

Nevertheless, Alisha begins telling us this whole spiel about how she ended up with a community service sentence. "Me and my mate, Chloe, were having cocktails in this bar, yeah. She's hassling me 'cos she wants to go to this party." We all shuffle closer to Alisha, waiting to see if this story is actually of any interest. "Chloe is on one because she thinks Jack is doing Lucy. Total slut fuck." I knew sex would be involved in this story somehow. "So we get in my car, I drive us to the party. We go into one of the rooms, yeah, and Jack's not doing Lucy. He's doing _Ellie_. She is a proper slut. Chloe freaks. I'm driving us back into town and Chloe's all like 'Oh, I feel sick.' and I'm like 'Don't puke in my car. Do _not_ puke in my car.' That's when the police pull us over." Finally, she gets to the part of the story actually vaguely relevant to getting arrested. "I'm already banned from driving so I am like 'Fuck'. This cop, yeah, he hands me the breathalyser, and I'm like.. 'Do I suck? Or blow?'." She flashes the boys, in particular Curtis, a smirk, and runs her tongue along the edge of the bottle and pushes it in and out of her mouth once. "It's insane, I'm totally working it, yeah."

Alisha begins licking the bottle again, moving it in and out, in and out, in and out of her mouth, her lips around the lid. The boys all sit, frozen to their seats, mouths gaping. I roll my eyes at the fact they can barely control their boners because of some obscene mime. Each time she's moving that bottle in between her lips all my mind is thinking is SLUT. After a few more moments, she slowly pulls it out and smirks once more. The boys all blink a few times, recovering themselves.

"I don't know if this cop is gay or what, but he tells me I'm four times over the limit. It's bullshit. I didn't even want to go to the party."

Suddenly, Kelly bursts through the door and stumbles onto the floor. "He's gonna kill os!" she shouts, fumbling with the lock. Her eyes are watery and encircled in black, evidently she doesn't use waterproof mascara.

"Nice entrance, very dramatic." Nathan gives her a slow applaud.

"The probation worker's gone mental, he's just attacked me." she explains, brow deeply furrowed in terror. I wouldn't be surprised, he looked a bit cuckoo after the storm yesterday. She probably did something to rattle his cage. "Something really weird is happening. I'm hearing these voices in my head. It's like I can hear what people are thinking." Then again, maybe she's the cuckoo one.

"Have you been sniffing glue?" Alisha asks condescendingly.

"The storm, the lightnin', it's done somethin' to os!" Kelly insists.

"Okay, if you can hear our thoughts, what am I thinkin' now?" Nathan questions, putting his fingers to his temples like he's emitting brainwaves from his mind.

"You think it's bullshit?" Kelly demands.

"Course I think it's bullshit, you don't need to be a mind reader to know that!"

"Why are you in a wheelchair?"

"It was the storm." Nathan whines in mock discomfort. "The strange tinglin' sensation in my anus has spread through my body, and now I can't feel my legs!"

"I'm serious!" Kelly shrieks, booting Nathan in the shin.

"Ouch, Jesus!"

"What do you mean the probation worker attacked you?" Curtis asks skeptically.

"This does sound like complete shit." Alisha says.

"He is out there and he chased me!" Kelly screams, her message not getting through. I don't know if I'd trust a girl who's hearing voices in her head.

"Something happened to me too." Simon reiterating his previous words.

"Did you pop your cherry? AH, we're all very happy for you!" Nathan teases.

Simon ignores that remark, "Earlier on, when we were in the locker room, I was invisible. I turned invisible."

I climb up off of the floor so my eyes are level with Simon's. "You turned invisible?"

"Yes." his reply is said with so much certainty that I find myself beginning to believe that the lightning could have truly done something to us.

"So, she's psychic and you can turn invisible? That seems likely." Curtis scorns.

Although I'm coming around to Simon's confession, I'm still doubting Kelly. Alisha's probably right, she's just taken a load of drugs like a typical chav and gone mental. Or she could be schizophrenic.

"Oi, you bitch! What the fuck does that mean?" Kelly yells, turning on me with hatred in her eyes, head jutting in my face with every word.

"W-what?" I stammer out, frozen to the floor in fear that this thug is going to headbutt me or something.

"You said - you thought - I was skidderfrendick!" she exclaims. So she really can read minds.

"Alright, ladies, calm down." Nathan intervenes, wheeling between us, before turning to Simon. "Did anyone witness this miraculous disappearance?" Nathan questions.

"You were all there." Simon protests.

"Erm, I think we might have noticed you vanishing into thin air." Alisha says. I doubt she would have noticed, most of the time she spends in the locker room is taken up by preening herself in the mirror.

"You didn't. I was standing right there. You couldn't see me."

Nathan wheels over to Simon, backing him up against the wall and staring up at him intimidatingly. "Go on, then. Do it. Turn invisible."

Simon tilts his head up to the ceiling and makes a few straining noises, sounding more like he has constipation.

"Oh my god! He's disappeared!" Nathan exclaims in fake astonishment.

"Can't you see me?" Simon waves his hand in front of Nathan's face.

"Stop it, Nathan, it's not funny." I step in, grabbing the arms of the wheelchair and pushing it backwards so it slams into the sofa.

"Why can't you let me have some fun, ey?" he asks, throwing the empty can of cola at me. Luckily, his aim is poor so I dodge out of the way. "You two are hilarious." Nathan says to Kelly and Simon. "Really, keep takin' that medication."

Nathan swivels the chair around and starts wheeling towards the doors, Kelly stops him in his path. "Don't! Don't go out there, he will kill ya!"

"Of course he will, because he's such a bad ass."

"Don't!"

"She's telling the truth." Curtis chimes in.

"And you know this how? I suppose you're physic now too." Nathan says in a casual tone.

"All this, it's already happened once. I opened the door, the probation worker, he killed you." he gestures towards Kelly. "You were right there. You were dead. Everything froze. You were all just standing there. Time went backwards." Things just keep getting better and better, don't they? Or maybe just increasingly peculiar.

"What are you saying, what, you turned back time?" Alisha queries doubtfully.

"This just gets better by the second." Nathan chortles.

"Why do you think everything is so fucking funny? You just wait until you end up being the one dead on the floor. Then maybe you'll start to take something seriously." I snap.

"No, once I'm dead on the floor, I'll make sure my spirit haunts you lot for the rest of your lives." Nathan grins and walks over to the door.

"Don't open that door! I swear, everything happened, exactly the same. Don't open the door." Curtis implores.

Nathan ignores his pleads and unlatches the door. A second later he slams it shut and hastily bolts the latch again. "He's right! The probation worker's gone mental."

The shadowed figure of the probation worker is visible through the frosted glass of the door. He has something in his hands, I can't tell what but it looks like it would do serious damage. The probation worker slams into the door, hitting it repeatedly and we all flinch each time he does so. We all crowd together and stare at the door, I impulsively grab Simon's hand, both of our palms are sweaty but I don't mind.

"Maybe he's on crystal meth, that stuff makes you crazy. My friend Chloe did it and she nearly shagged her brother. And he's _really_ ugly." Alisha remarks.

Tony slams into the door once again, grunting as he does so. "The graffiti. I'm going to kill you, he wrote it." Simon whimpers.

"What did I say? I said there was a hidden meaning. Or not." Nathan says.

"Did anything happen to you two?" Kelly asks Alisha and I.

"No, nothing." I answer.

"Me neither, we should call the police!" Alisha mewls.

"He took our phones, he's got all our phones." Simon replies.

"No he hasn't." I say.

"Yes he has, he took them all earlier."

"Not mine." I grin, retrieving my iPhone from my bra. I always keep it there for safe keeping.

"How do you even fit a whole iPhone down there? Your bra must be tiny." Nathan ridicules.

I throw him an exasperated look, too caught up in all this shit to be bothered to hit him again, and tap in 999. I press the green call button but it won't work. "Fuck. There's no signal in here."

"Well that's just brilliant! Thanks for getting our hopes up." Nathan says.

"Wait. He's stopped." Curtis points out.

There's silence. This seems too good to be true.

"You dickhead! Why did you come back here you should have gone for help!" Alisha spits at Kelly.

"What do you know, bitch?"

"Shut up, chav."

"D'ya know if ya call me a chav one more time I will kick you so hard in the cunt ya mum'll feel it." Kelly threatens, which shuts Alisha up.

"Her mum'll feel it? How does that work?" Nathan has all the important questions right now, when we're in danger of being beaten to death by our probation worker.

"He tried to kill me! I came back here to warn yous lot and I could've left ya." Kelly's right. What if she hadn't come back and someone opened the door and the probation worker slaughtered us all? Although we're still in danger of that now. "I'm sick of every single one of ya judging me. Ya can all fuck off!"

"Whatever, I'm getting out of here." Alisha darts out towards the other exit.

"Out the back way, come on." Nathan encourages.

We all race out towards the door until I hear a squeak behind me and see Nathan sprawled out on the floor. He's slipped on a pool of blood. Just looking at all that blood makes me feel sick to the stomach, my mind returns to the night after I took all the vodka and pills and ended up smashing all those windows in. I remember waking up the following morning, I'd passed out in this alleyway. My shirt was soaked in blood. Someone else's blood.

I blink a few times and get back to the situation at hand. Nathan is cursing, frantically scrabbling up and wiping the blood on his hands onto his jumpsuit. "Fuck! Fuck, get it off me, get it off me!" he retches, this is the first time I've seen him truly petrified. He's beginning to realise the seriousness of this situation now someone else's blood is all over his overalls.

"It's coming from that locker." I breathe.

A suspenseful silence falls upon us. Alisha is tearing up and I can feel Simon, whose hand is still in mine, shaking with every breath. Curtis cautiously approaches the locker and opens it ever so carefully.

The door swings open and Gary's dead and butchered body flops out, his head drooping as it's almost completely disjoined from his body.. We all scream and back away in horror.

"I did wonder what had happened to him." Nathan whispers.

Simon cocks his head to the side and tries to look more closely at the half severed head in fascination.

"He's going to kill us." Alisha says through tears.

What if this is how I die? On my second day of community service surrounded by a load of twats I barely know. I always imagined myself dying peacefully in my bed as an old woman, with my husband and my children by my bedside. If I die now, I'm never going to get a job, get a husband and have children and grow old. None of that is going to happen. The terrifying thought of never being able to grow up sends me into hysterics. I feel breathless, I'm sweating even more and my heart is hammering like it's going to burst out of my chest. I grip onto Simon's hand tightly, he senses something is wrong but we both know now isn't the time to speak out.

"Turn back time, stop this happening." Nathan commands Curtis.

"I don't know how it works!"

"That's great, that's really useful!"

Alisha sniffles and Curtis murmurs a comforting, "Come on. Don't look at him." He grabs onto her wrist then gasps, all the veins in his arms become prominent and his grip on her arm tightens. "I've got to have sex with you right now. You're so beautiful." he wheezes out fervidly.

"What's up with him?" Nathan asks.

"Let's go, let's do it now, real quick!" Curtis moans, barely able to keep his dick in his pants.

"Get off me you freak!" Alisha shrieks, pushing him away.

"What?" Curtis pants out, apparently oblivious of his lustful outburst. Alisha reaches her hand out to slap him but Curtis grasps it again. "You're so hot! I'm gonna bone you! I'm gonna shag you senseless!"

"Let go!" Alisha tears him away.

"What did I do?"

"You said you were gonna shag her." Kelly laughs.

"And you were getting your chap out." Nathan adds.

"Shut up!" Curtis snaps.

"It's when you were touching her." Simon says. Alisha glances at her quivering hands in shock, then reaches out to touch Simon's neck. All the veins on his neck become visibly blue. "I'm so hard for you. I want to rip your clothes off and piss on your tits." he groans through gritted teeth. Were those his own thoughts coming out there? Because if that's his idea of a good time then he's fucking messed up.

Alisha promptly lets go and once her skin has lost contact with his, he half-collapses but pulls himself quickly up again, flustered.

"You sick bastard!" Nathan jeers.

There's a cry and the probation worker smashes through the door, glass shattering everywhere. He lunges forward, a large piece of metal in his hand, and in an instant smacks Nathan in the head. Our mouths fall open, we're too taken aback to scream. Nathan collapses to the floor, eyes still open, a vague grin eerily fixed open his mouth. But the horrific amount of blood pooling around his head tells me he's dead.


	3. Chapter 3: Out, Damned Spot

**Warning: Contains anorexia, purging, binging, violence and swearing.**

**A/N: Hey! First of all, sorry this chapter is kinda short. It's more of a filler chapter than anything else and I feel that if I made it any longer it would just be unnecessary. Also, hello to all my new readers! Since I posted chapter two my viewers and readers have skyrocketed and I've been getting a few more follows, favourites and reviews. Make sure you read the A/N at the end too.**

**So thanks to 'Alana' and 'To die upon a kiss' for their reviews.**

* * *

We all stand for a second, unable to comprehend what we've all just witnessed. Nathan is dead. He's dead. This can't be a practical joke. There's a dent in his head. A fucking massive dent where the probation worker struck him. Staring at the body, Nathan's earlier words echo relentlessly in my ears, "Turn back time, stop this happening."

I'm the first to whir back into action, realising that Tony is still here, looking like he's transformed into a man utterly consumed by anger, eyes glazed over yet filled with venom, back hunched and that jagged bar of metal in his hands. I frantically glance around, looking for something to defend myself with, I reach for the first object to hand, a fire extinguisher which I take off the wall, and I throw it at the back of his head with all the strength I can muster. He lets out a grunt of pain when the fire extinguisher hits him with a sickening thud and releases the metal in his hands, it falls to the floor with a clatter. Tony stumbles before crumpling to the floor, lying next to Nathan's body.

Everyone's shock is clear by the silence, which is strangely. Alisha's hands are clasped over her mouth, Kelly is gnawing away on a pink-painted thumbnail and the others just gape at me. I've killed somebody. Possibly for the second time. I can't remember the first time clearly enough to recall whether I actually killed the person whose blood stained my shirt.

"What did you do?" Alisha asks me in disbelief, despite it being blatantly obvious what I've done, her voice audibly trembling.

"I - I - I had to. He would have killed us all if I hadn't!" I drop the fire extinguisher and hide my face in my sleeves. What have I done?

"Is 'e dead?" Kelly hesitantly draws nearer to the probation worker, prodding him lightly with the toe of her grubby white trainer.

She's just touched the probation workers arm with her toe, when his eyes immediately snap open and his arm jerks out to grab Kelly's extended ankle. Alisha lets out an ear-splitting shriek.

"I AM NOT A CHAV!" Kelly screams, kicking Tony in the head with her spare foot until his eyelids droop and the grasp on her ankle loosens.

"Did you two just kill our probation worker?" Alisha questions.

I look at all the faces around me, each contorted in horror. "It wasn't me who killed him. It was Kelly who finished him off." I realise now isn't the time for technicalities but I don't want to have the blame on me.

"I feel sick." Alisha gags.

"He would've killed os!" Kelly protests.

"We should call the police. It was self defence." Curtis suggests, it's easy for him to say, when he's the one without a trace of blood on his hands.

"Yeah, he's right, we show him the dead boy in the locker, they'll do some CSI shit and figure it all out." Alisha says.

"Do you really think they're going to believe a group of young offenders?" I know tears are falling down my face but I continue to talk. "They already think we're scum. What are we gonna tell 'em anyway? That our probation worker got struck by lightning and turned mental?"

"If there's no body, there's no crime." Simon states, nervously wiping his brow with the palm of his hand. Is he saying what I think he's saying? "We should bury them under the flyover." Yes. At last, someone has suggested something that has the slightest possibility of being successful.

"Yes, but how do we do that? Someone's gonna see us?" Alisha wails.

"We can just clean up all the.." Simon lingers, seemingly unable to form the next word. ".. blood and put them in those wheelchairs."

Our eyes all meet and we soundlessly exchange some sort of agreement. The next few minutes are spent in silence. I go off to find a few shovels while Kelly and Alisha - who looks ready to puke at any moment - mop up the blood from the floor. Simon cleans the fire extinguisher and the blood surrounding the wounds on Gary, Nathan and Tony. Curtis heaves each unpleasantly limp body into a wheelchair. Once I return with the shovels, Alisha and Kelly carry them in bin bags so we don't look so suspicious, and I push Nathan, Simon pushes Gary and Curtis pushes Tony to the flyover. This whole situation is messed up beyond belief and by God do we know it. We have no other choice.

Although the flyover isn't far, the journey seems to take hours. The endless false grins we have to flash passersby as we're wheeling the three corpses that are slumped in their wheelchairs and all wearing a pair of sunglasses to add to the not-dead effect we're attempting to achieve here.

I'm struggling to believe that the boy I'm currently pushing has been reduced from a guy with a larger than life, in-your-face personality, whose last words were "you sick bastard", to someone who's just so... dead.

There's a large patch of ground beneath the flyover that is conveniently the perfect consistency for digging up. If you'd told me at the start of today that by mid-afternoon I'd be discussing the consistency of dirt to bury three murder victims in then I wouldn't have believed you. I can't even fathom that this is happening right now, it's all just so unreal, something you read about in crime novels or hear about in the papers. But you never believe that one day it's going to be you holding that shovel.

Burying a few bodies isn't as easy a task as you might think. I'm working up a serious sweat digging this hole, we need to dig it fairly deep so that it's harder for the bodies to be found. After at least half an hour of shovelling, I wheel up the first body, Nathan's, and tip the wheelchair forward so he flops out and into the pit. Curtis and Simon do the same with the other two.

It's not the most dignified of graves, I must say. Come to think of it, none of these three would have guessed that they'd be dead in a hole in the ground by mid-afternoon either. It just goes to show how unpredictable and fucking messed up life can be.

We grab a shovel again and scoop up piles of earth to cover up the corpses with.

"None of yous lot can say a word about this." orders a very ashen faced Kelly as she tosses some dirt onto a bare finger which is peeking out through the earth. "Ya can't tell anyone? 'kay?"

"Don't you worry, I ain't telling nobody about this. I will not be a freak." Alisha replies, her social status being top priority.

"I won't tell a soul." I mumble, too traumatised to speak properly. All I want to do right now is jump in that hole with them and let the ground swallow me up. The guilt is unbearable.

"Me neither." Simon assures.

"What 'bout you then?" Kelly asks Curtis.

"I shouldn't even be here." he responds through gritted teeth. I take that as a reluctant agreement.

* * *

The sky has darkened by the time I reach my flat. I let myself in and flick on the light switch. It's only a small place but it's a comforting sight after the train wreck of a day I've just had. I used to live in a much nicer house in South London with my mum but after I got my community service sentence she threw me out. She said she never wanted to see me again. I believe her precise words were, "I knew you'd turn out to be a fuck up like your father. Fuck off, get out of my house you bitch, I never want to see your pathetic excuse of a face again." Luckily, I have enough money in my bank account to see me through a couple of years of living in this cheap, North London flat.

My mother wasn't the nicest of people, not after my father fell off the wagon and fucked off with some cheap bird he met down the pub, that is. I was only six then. But it hurts to hear the closest person in your life say something like that to you.

Enough of dwelling on the past. My present is fucked up enough as it is.

I take a shower as soon as I get in the flat, my skin itches, it feels as if it's contaminated.

"Out, damned spot!" I mutter as I scrub at my arms with shower gel, the water pouring down on me. "Out I say!" I allow myself a small, rather deranged chuckle. I think I'm really losing my sanity right now. Although this situation does remind me of Lady Macbeth's, but hopefully it won't end in me killing myself like it did with her. Get a grip, Lottie, you're quoting fucking Shakespeare in the shower! I remember back to English lessons at my old school, dead posh it was, mum had just got herself a new toy boy with stack loads of cash so she wanted to send me to a private school. I despised English lessons. Our teacher was this decrepit old man who looked more fit for the retirement home. Just _thinking _of his droning voice, even now, is enough to get me yawning.

After my shower, I dry my body then my hair before slipping into my pyjamas. My body visibly shakes despite being perfectly warm and toasty. It's just the constant worries nagging at my mind are eating away at me. I don't want to throw my life down the drain by getting a murder sentence for killing my probation worker on my second day of community service.

Then something else pops up in my mind; _why don't I have a power?_

The thought only just occured to me. I mean, Kelly is psychic, Simon can turn invisible, Curtis can turn back time and Alisha can touch people and make them really horny, but what can I do? I got struck by lightning too so why shouldn't I have one of these powers?

These persistent questions to myself are pointless because I don't have the answers, and I'm sure nor does anyone else. I let out a groan which is then followed by a groan of hunger from my stomach.

_Fuck it, _I think, heading to the kitchen. I haven't had a proper meal in days and once I start eating I realise how starving I am. I take a few bags of crisps and slices of bread and just eat and eat and eat until I'm full. Being full is a sensation I haven't experienced in a while. I hate it. The moment I stop eating, I'm overwhelmed with guilt and regret over what I've just done, which only adds to the guilt and regret I'm experiencing already. It feels like I've just gone and ruined all of my previous hard work, all those days without eating properly gone to waste because of one stupid, emotional binge. I feel so bloated and fat and repulsive and just so _stupid_ for letting myself do such a thing.

Through my tears, a smile suddenly emerges. Along with an idea. I go to the bathroom, lift up the toilet seat, using one hand to hold back my hair. I take one finger and stare at it. It tremors. Then I hesitantly open my mouth and stick the single finger down my throat, it touches my uvula and I retch over the toilet bowl before vomiting. Perfect.

* * *

**A/N: Hello there! Little author's note at the end of the chapter as it has been pointed out to me that there may be some confusion over Lottie's power. Just to clarify, her power isn't vomiting. I'm saving her power until the time comes when she'll need it. You'll see eventually! But for now I'm keeping you waiting. Don't worry though, it's good. See you in chapter 4!**


	4. Chapter 4: No Need To Be Anxious

**Warning: Contains anorexia, purging, violence and swearing.**

**A/N: Hi, hope you all had a good Christmas! I did, got some Misfits DVDs and the soundtrack too. I decided to mix it up a little and in this chapter I've written some excerpts from Simon's POV. Also, I think I have post-Misfits depression. I can't believe it's over now. My all time favourite show is over. This is how I felt after Harry Potter ended. And it's only just dawned on me that there won't be anymore episodes. Watching back all the old episodes makes me feel all nostalgic and sad. All I want is a reunion of the original cast even though most of them are dead. Sigh. Anyway, happy reading! Hope you enjoy the progression in Simon and Lottie's complicated friendship relationship thing. Even I'm not sure what it's going to develop into yet. I guess we'll see! **

**Also, for the purposes of this fic, Simon doesn't have a little sister, he mentions this sister in S2 E3, and his parents aren't together, he mentions his parents in S2 E6. **

**And a special mention to "To die upon a kiss" who has been a truly wonderful reviewer from chapter one, constantly giving me detailed reviews which really help the fic.**

* * *

The bathroom sink is beginning to turn a washed out blue colour with the amount of mouthwash I've gargled and spat into it. The almost acidic taste of puke has remained, still lingering in my throat after last night's purging. I make myself a mental vow to never make myself vomit again, I don't want to go down that road. I know the consequences. If I keep on doing it I'll fuck up my stomach and throat and I'll get revolting teeth. I just need to stop myself from eating so much again.

I give up on attempting to lose this vile taste and grab a few sticks of gum to weaken the bitterness. I glance at my watch. Its strap is a simple beige coloured leather and behind the ticking hands is a picture of Winnie the Pooh, hand in hand with his best friend Piglet. I got this watch as a tenth birthday present from my mother, admittedly it's not the most fashionable of watches to still be wearing as an eighteen year old but children's watches are the only type that can fit my slim wrists.

It's only just gone five o'clock, which is early considering it's a Sunday and I don't have community service to go to, for which I'm very thankful. I could do with a break after the trauma of yesterday, which I'm trying extremely hard, and unsuccessfully, to forget. I suppose it would be even more traumatising if I hadn't possibly murdered someone already.

'So, Lottie, why are you up at five o'clock?' I hear you ask. Well, voice in my head, which is only further proving the loss of my sanity. I didn't have the most peaceful night's sleep, what with the restlessness of my thoughts. By half past four I came to the conclusion that there was no point in lying in bed any longer so I've donned a pair of baggy running shorts - I don't like it when clothes cling - and an oversized shirt from some mediocre pop concert I went to see when I was younger. I'm going for a run. This will be a healthy method of losing weight, more healthy than puking up over the toilet bowl.

I lace up my worn-out Converse. I don't own a vast collection of shoes, unlike most girls my age, so they serve as multi-purpose, right now their purpose is acting as a pair of running shoes. I make sure to do a few stretches before leaving, not that I really know what the correct pre-running stretches are so I just wave my legs around a bit hoping for the best, it's a pity Curtis isn't here, he could give me a few tips.

The sky is a cloudless blue with a slight orange hue of the almost risen sun, typical for mid-summer time. Outside it's practically barren of all life, other than the odd hungover person stumbling back from one of the many nightclubs that reside on the estate. I start off at a leisurely jog to ease myself in, slipping my headphones over my head and playing a song with a good beat to it so that my feet can pound against the pavement in time with the music. I don't find myself struggling so I gradually pick up the pace until I reach a faster speed. It's hard to grow tired when I stare at my feet as I listen to music. It's quite hypnotic, watching the rhythm of each foot pushing itself off the ground.

I'm still focused on my feet when I run headlong into something, sending me and that something tumbling to the floor. I curse under my breath and yank off my headphones before hoisting myself up so I can see what I just knocked down.

"Hello Lottie." Simon groans from the pavement.

"Shit." I exclaim, helping him up and brushing dirt off the shoulder of his jacket. "I am so sorry, Simon, I was just listening to music and I-" My sputtering of an apology is silenced by the press of Simon's lips against mine.

"What was that?" I breathe, once he pulls away.

"I-I'm sorry. I just wanted to do that. I thought it seemed.. right." Now it's Simon's turn to blush.

It was only a brief peck, barely able to hold the title of a kiss but it's still greatly appreciated. I think. Should I appreciate it? I mean, I barely know the bloke. Although, now I'm conflicted. He's a lovely guy, maybe a bit damaged but that makes two of us. But he's making me eat. I know it's only out of concern but I find it hard to comprehend. It just feels like all my hard work is going to waste, I'll stop losing so much weight soon. It's not like it's out of my control. Right?

"So what are you doing out so early?" I ask him, dismissing the kiss but not downright rejecting it.

"I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd go out for a walk." he replies with a hesitant smile. "What about you?"

"Couldn't sleep either." I smirk. "I'm out for a run, thought some exercise would do me some good."

"When was the last time you ate? You know you shouldn't exercise without eating, don't you?" Again with all the questions about my eating patterns. I don't have the heart to tell him it's none of his business, especially after him being so sweet as to kiss me.

"I ate a proper meal last night." I say confidently, deliberately leaving out the second half of the story.

"Good."

"Well, I best be off now. See you tomorrow." I continue my run, another load of emotions added to the fucking mix.

* * *

**Simon**

"Bye." I mumble, despite being aware that she won't be able to hear me. She's already jogged off around the corner. Oh god, why did I have to go and kiss her? She couldn't get away fast enough.

I give my brow a shaky wipe with the palm of my hand and begin traipsing back home, head full to the brim with worries. No, Simon, get a grip. You know what Doctor Felly says about worrying; just don't.

Sod Doctor Felly. Did she like the kiss? Should I have kissed her? Or is it too soon? It's just, I don't know these things. I've never had a relationship before. Not since I was nine years old, that is. But I don't think holding hands with a girl you meet on holiday when you're still in primary school counts as a proper relationship.

She didn't seem very happy when she ran off. Maybe she doesn't like me prying so much. It's only because I worry about her, I don't want her ending up in a mental health unit like I did. It'd probably be best if I didn't tell her about that for now, I don't think it would pair up well with my serious lack of confidence and tendency to come across as so... "weird" as Nathan had put it on numerous occasions.

Thinking of Nathan only invites more worry into my troubled thoughts. Seeing Lottie throw the fire extinguisher at the probation worker like that... it just portrayed her in a completely different light. But if she hadn't done that then maybe I wouldn't be standing here right now. Here's me thinking less of a girl for killing someone and saving my life when I tried to burn someone's house down. I'm not exactly the picture of innocence either.

I don't know what it is about Lottie. I've never liked a girl this much within so little time of knowing her. I feel like we have some sort of connection, maybe it's the fact that we're both quite vulnerable or... I don't know. But why does everything have to be so complicated?

I inwardly groan as I open the door to my house. The landline phone sits by the radiator and is visible as soon as you step in the house. I know by the flashing of the red light on the handset that there's a new voicemail. I hang up my front door key on the hook by the coat rack and hut the voicemail button as I do so.

"1 new message, sent today at 00:30 am." the monotonous voicemail woman says. "Hiya, Simon!" a new voice greets in a perky tone, I recognise this voice as my mother's. "Just wanted to call to let you know I'm having an _amazing _time in Spain with Roderick, so we've decided to stay a little longer! I'm sure you won't mind but..." she starts giggling and I can hear a husky man's voice in the background, no doubt her latest toy boy Roderick. "Oh! Roderick, stop it, you naughty boy!" The giggling continues and then the line goes dead.

* * *

**Lottie**

Living alone is boring as fuck. I can't believe I'm saying this but even doing community service would be more entertaining. I've already tidied and cleaned the flat at least three times today, that alone displays how bored out of my skull I am.

I flip open my laptop that's so old and decrepit I'm pretty sure it would be eligible to take along to the Antiques Roadshow. It buzzes loudly in protest once I turn it on, it's barely fit for purpose anymore but it's the only laptop I have. I key in my login details and go to Google, which takes a century and a half to load.

"Struck by lightning" I type into the search engine before hitting the enter key. I find websites that tell me the likelihood of lightning strikes, the odds of getting struck by lightning in the UK are slim; one to three million to be precise. Yet five of us, plus the probation worker were all struck at the same time.

The chances of survival are even slimmer. But those who do survive come away with nasty side effects, I see photos of horrific scars and people with permanent disabilities, yet nowhere do I see side effects like invisibility or being able to turn back time.

After a few more minutes of searching, tiredness is pulling me out of consciousness and soon enough I've fallen asleep on top of my laptop.

* * *

I snap out of my slumber, my neck stiff and aching from its improper pillow, a laptop. There's a pleasant little pool of dribble on the keyboard which I wipe off with the sleeve of my shirt. What time is it? I retrieve my phone from my jogging bottoms pocket, failing to remember in my drowsiness that I'm wearing a watch. The time is only 7:54, I only slept for a couple of hours. Hang on. Did I just read that right? Below the time, it reads "Monday 2nd August". Shit. I just slept through a whole fucking day.

I stretch my aching limbs and rub the sleep from my eyes, then I take a quick wash and get ready for my third day of community service. Hopefully it won't be so eventful. I wear a simple pale blue skater dress, a cropped white blazer and I pair it with the white plimsoles that I wore the other day. I slap on some make-up too.

Before leaving, I consider whether I should eat something today. I almost allow myself a slice of toast but thankfully, I stop myself before reaching for the bread. Instead, I swallow a couple of these new diet pills I bought called _Delgado_ that, according to the packet, stop you from getting hungry. I take these with a couple cups of fully caffeinated coffee to keep my energy levels high.

The walk to the community centre is pleasant and for some reason I'm in high spirits, most likely due to the amount of caffeine I've just consumed. I'm walking along the edge of the lake, thinking how nice it looks with the sunlight reflecting in the water, when my heart comes to a standstill and my smile falters. A police car is pulled up outside the community centre. I don't know why I'm surprised, did I not expect there to be consequences? Nobody found out the first time around so maybe I can get away with it again. Oh Jesus.

I enter the building, trying to act as normal as possible. There are a pair of policemen who cast suspicious glares at me as I walk past, only adding to the nerves. The locker room is deadly silent, no wise cracks or larking around today. We've all come to the realisation that this shit is serious. I glance around at my fellow delinquents; Curtis wears an expression more of fury than anything else, I can almost hear his thoughts, something along the lines of "I shouldn't even be here" I presume. Alisha's lower lip trembles and she appears fit to burst into tears at any moment. Kelly's face is deadpan. No emotion is clear. Yet somehow I can tell she's just as scared as I am. Simon looks more tense than usual, his skin as white as chalk and his palm rising to wipe his constantly sweating brow at every opportunity.

I stab my arms and legs into the jumpsuit then gesture for everyone to come closer. They gather around and I whisper, "We all need an alibi. All we can say is that it was a normal day, we were just scrubbing the graffiti and by the afternoon, the probation worker along with Gary and Nathan had vanished." They all nod in agreement, too anxious to argue.

* * *

"Lottie, can you come to the office now, please?" the stand-in probation worker asks. Her arms are folded firmly across her chest and her fingers tap restlessly against her arm.

I'm the last to be called in for questioning. Deep breaths... deep breaths. I walk into the office, trying to relax but every inch of my body is trembling with utter apprehension.

"Are you Charlotte Ainsworth?" a short but stocky, middle aged police officer with a moustache not unlike the bristles you'd find on a scrubbing brush asks as I enter. He gestures to the swivel chair behind me, asking me to sit down, which I do so.

"Yes. Well - no. Lottie. My real name is Lottie. Not Charlotte." I garble.

The police officer raises an eyebrow and introduces himself, "I'm Constable Jefferson and this is my colleague, Constable Hynes." He nods towards the other man in the room who I sit opposite, taller with a more muscular build but also middle aged.

Constable Jefferson takes the other seat in front of me and Constable Hynes fishes a notepad and pen from his top pocket.

"So, you're aware of the disappearance of Tony Morecambe, Nathan Young and Gary Hartley, correct?" Jefferson queries. Hynes is leaning forward, pen hovering over the paper in readiness.

"Y-yes." I stutter out.

"No need to be anxious now, is there? Unless of course, there is." he meets my eyes in a cold, fixed stare that has me frozen in my seat. Jefferson lets out a little chuckle, yet his eyes remain devoid of warmth. "Back to the questions. When did you notice the disappearance of the three males?"

I allow myself to lose all the tension that has made me so rigid in terror. I find the courage to lock eyes with the constable as I begin the telling of my alabi. "Gary didn't turn up for community service on Saturday morning, the probation worker disappeared before lunch and Nathan after lunch."

"Can you go through what your day involved on Saturday?"

"I arrived at the community centre, just on time. There was some graffiti on the wall that had appeared overnight."

"What was this graffiti of, Miss Ainsworth?"

"It was big, red letters. It said 'I'M GOING TO KILL YOU'." I reply, clearly and hopefully confidently. He nods. "Then I got changed in the locker room and we all got a scrubbing brush and a bucket of water. That was the last time we saw the probation worker. We were scrubbing the wall for a while until midday when we all went back inside to get lunch from the vending machine. When we went back to scrubbing the wall after eating, Nathan wasn't there." I conclude my explanation, Constable Hynes furiously scribbling away. I can't believe I've just lied to the police. Again.

"That'll be all. Thank you, Charlotte." And with that he dismisses me with a simple wave of his hand.

I roll my eyes once my back is turned and I'm out of the door. "It's Lottie." I mutter. Although now isn't the time to getting hung up over wrong names, I should be thankful because that's all over now. I don't think it's safe to say that I've got away with it yet but we'll see.

I return to the locker room to find everyone milling around. Curtis and Alisha are sitting on the floor, backs leaned against a row of lockers engaged in a conversation of furtive whispering. Kelly is at the opposite end of the room, shakily smoking a cigarette, while Simon paces animatedly up and down the tiled floor. Once I lock eyes on him my impulsive reaction is to wrap my arms around him in a tight embrace. I just need something to hold onto right now, something of comfort.

"I was so scared." I breathe into Simon's ear. I'm holding him so firmly that his arms are glued to his sides rather awkwardly and his eyes are wide and darting around.

"Don't worry." he reassures in a strained voice. I realise that this is a tad uncomfortable for Simon so I release my grasp on him and we both nervously laugh to calm our nerves. Then the light conversation dwindles down and a silence gradually falls upon the room for a few minutes.

"Excuse me." the voice of the female probation worker asking for our attention disrupts the stillness. Her arms remained crossed across her chest, limp brown hair stopping just above them and her brow seems to be permanently knitted into a frown which is an obvious display of her unease. "You can all go home now. Your community service will continue as usual tomorrow."

I'm unsure as to whether I should be glad community service is cancelled, I think to myself as I unzip the orange jumpsuit and bundle it back into my backpack. I suppose I could do with a small break away from all suspicion and accusation, but now I have to figure out what to do with myself for the rest of today.

However, now it seems as if that decision is going to be less difficult. "L-Lottie?" Simon has been lingering behind my shoulder for a while now, readying himself for whatever he's about to ask me. I slam my locker shut and turn to face him with a fleeting smile. "Well, I was just wondering, since we have the afternoon free... do you want to come to my house? For dinner? My mum's away so-"

"I'm not going round your house for sex if that's what you're asking." I say. I know I'm jumping to conclusions here, but a girl has to have principles and I know how sleazy and desperate some blokes can be.

Simon's eyes widen at the horror of the S word and he instantly becomes increasingly twitchy. Obviously Simon doesn't belong in the group of "some blokes". "What?"

"Usually when guys say stuff like 'my parents are out of town', that's code for 'my parents are out of town so let's have sex because we won't be disturbed'."

"I... I don't want to have sex with you."

I laugh. I'm indecisive as to whether I should go, I don't want to eat a huge meal. I just don't want to eat any kind of meal. I already had some coffee this morning, plus a couple of those pills, that's plenty for today. Well, I suppose I could get rid of it after. Yes, I realise I promised myself I wouldn't do it again but this will be the final time. It's the only option I have to make Simon believe that I'm normal. "Sure."

He gives me his address and we agree that I'll be around at about six o'clock.

* * *

The walk to Simon's house is spent musing over what my relationship with him truly is. Am I going around his house as a friend? Does he want more than that? I mean, that kiss yesterday tells me the answer to that is yes, but then the question is, do _I _want more than friendship? I've only known the guy for - I murmur to myself as I count out the days on my hand, "Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday." - four days and I've already been invited to his house. Maybe life changing events like murdering your probation worker can cause such instantaneous bonds.

His house isn't far from my flat so the walk doesn't take too long. His house has the features of a quite modest home, from the outside. There's nothing too elegant in the small patch of grass that the house overlooks which could be deemed as a front garden, no elaborate flower beds with incandescent pink petunias or vivid purple carnations, just a few simple shrubs in pots and a little stretch of white fencing by the door.

I rap my knuckles on the door and the door almost instantly flies open, to reveal Simon - wearing an apron - standing there with a big grin on his face. I've never seen him smile like that before. I have to say, it looks a lot better than the constantly nervous look he usually sports.

"Hi." I say with a smile. His grin is contagious.

"You look nice." he compliments. I'm not wearing anything particularly special, just a dungaree dress over a short sleeve, pale yellow shirt. Oh, and I added a touch of lipstick to my regular makeup.

I thank him and he invites me in. The interior decor is a clear sign that a middle aged woman resides here too. The hallway's walls are plastered with posters and canvases of those cheesy, supposedly inspiration quotes like the ones you find on coasters in garden centres. For instance, there's a large framed poster at the end of the hallway, inside is a photo of an unrealistically perfect blue, cloudless sky with the words; "Life is just a mirror and what you see out there you must see first inside of you.". What does that even mean? Do people actually try and live by these bullshit quotations? They remind me of the vaguely spiritual prophecies you find inside a fortune cookie.

Simon escorts me through to the living room and plonks me down on the sofa, before sitting down next to me.

"Why did you kiss me yesterday?" I ask, going in for a tricky question to begin. I just want to know, it seems a bit early for that and I'm not even sure what my feelings for him are, or if I have any at all.

He purses his lips and shifts his gaze to the floor, absently picking at a loose thread in the fabric of the sofa as he explains himself. "Was I not supposed to? It's just, I've never had a proper..." Simon pauses and swallows hard. "...girlfriend. Or anything like that before."

I sigh, I hate seeing him so cripplingly awkward. "No, it's just, it seemed a bit early that's all."

We spend the next few minutes rather tight-lipped. I never really realised that pretty much all of the few conversations we've had have revolved around my not eating, now I think Simon has finally gathered that him intruding in my personal matters is making me feel rather ill at ease.

"Nice apron." I eventually comment, hoping to set some communication in motion.

He makes several distressed glances from his apron, to me, and then in the direction of what I assume is the kitchen. "Oh… shit!" he exclaims and darts off and out of the room. I hear an abundance of boisterous clatters and clangs.

I trace Simon's previous footsteps and I find myself in the kitchen, the table at the end of the room tells me it doubles up as a dining room. Smoke is slowly filling the whole room and amidst the smoke stand a sheepish Simon, clutching in his oven mitts a baking tray of what seems like lumps of charcoal. He opens his mouth to explain himself but the piercing sound of the smoke alarm interrupts.

I bite my lip in an attempt to stem the overwhelming urge of derisive laughter, but my attempt fails and I crack up. Simon looks a bit disheartened at first but soon sees the funny side of this hopeless situation and we both fall into fits of giggles.

Right there, in that moment, it felt good. For those few, precious minutes my mind was free of all concerns. All I cared about was laughter. All I could think about was how I was laughing so much I could barely catch a breath. It was perfect. I haven't had a moment like that in ages.

* * *

The doorbell rings and Simon pauses the movie to go and answer the door. We cleared up all the mess and decided that cooking was too much bother, so instead Simon called a pizza and we went up to his room to watch a movie.

While he's downstairs getting the pizza delivery, I take this as an opportunity to have a look around his bedroom. At first glance, it looks like what I'd imagine a ten year old boy's room would look like when he was going through his geeky phase, but it seems Simon never grew out of his geeky phase. Everything seems to be very well-kept and every object is ordered neatly and precisely. There are posters about all things from dinosaurs to the Solar System pinned up on the blue painted walls. The desk in the corner holds a laptop and various figurines of science fiction characters. Above it are frames containing dead butterflies and on the window ledge is a long row of DVDs with handwritten labels on the side.

I take one of the DVDs out to have a look when a voice from the doorway startles me. "What are you doing?"

I hastily shove the DVD back on the window ledge. "Sorry, I was just looking." I reply, shamefaced.

He doesn't seem to mind too much, however. "I've got the pizza." he says.

We both sit back down on his astronaut patterned bed covers and open up the pizza box. The delicious aroma of warm pepperoni pizza drifts out, making me want to devour the whole thing right away. Pizza is my one weakness, much like Superman's is Kryptonite. Simon pulls off a slice and starts chewing away. I can remember when I used to be like him, I didn't analyse the food I was putting in my mouth and I just ate.

I tentatively pick up a slice of the pizza and begin to nibble at it slowly.

"Do you want to continue watching the movie?" Simon queries through a mouthful of cheese.

"If it's alright, I'd like to just talk. So we can get to know each other more." I say, he replies with a hurried nod. "What did you get done for, then?"

Simon open and closes his mouth, looking a bit like a goldfish, as if he's trying to find the right words.

"You don't have to tell me." I assure.

"I want to, it's just a bit... embarrassing." he blinks a few times, through wide eyes. "I tried to burn someone's house down."

I'm a little taken aback, I must say. "Woah. What happened?"

"Well there's this guy, he lives next door, and when we were younger we used to be best mates. That is, until we started secondary school. He turned into a bully. I felt sick every morning just thinking about going to school." he pauses to take a ragged breath and I smile reassuringly. "Then, a few months ago, I get a text from him inviting me to this club. I thought he wanted to apologise. So, I go to the club and I go up to him and his mates and he tells me he sent me the text by mistake. I was so humiliated." He looks so hurt just telling the story, it makes me feel guilty that I even asked. I place my hand on top of his free hand, and rub my fingers along his knuckles. "Then I was angry. I got drunk. I started thinking about everything he did to me at school. I lost it. So I went round his house, I made sure his parents were out and I soaked some tissues in lighter fluid, I lit them and put them through the letterbox. There was a cat."

I arch an eyebrow. "A cat?"

"Yes. Inside the house. And I thought, the cat didn't bully me at school, he hasn't done anything. The carpet was just starting to catch light, the cat was freaking out. So I had to put the fire out."

"How?"

He leans in towards me, as if someone else could be listening. "I pissed through the letterbox." I have to shove a slice of pizza in my mouth to suppress the laughter again. "That's when his mum came home. She started screaming. And you know what it's like, once you've started, it's hard to stop!" I think my smirking may be noticeable. "It's not funny." Simon moans. But then, just like before, the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he starts laughing too.

Only then, do I realise how much I've actually eaten. I wasn't even thinking about it as I was listening to Simon, but somehow I've eaten most of my half. At some point I need to get rid of it. But not just yet.

"I've told you what I gone done for, now you tell me your story." Simon says. It's nice to have someone who takes interest in me.

"I can't remember most of what happened. But I'll tell you what I know. It was a few months ago, I took some of these pills and washed them down with vodka. I can't remember what the pills were, or how many I had or where I even got them from, I've never taken drugs or drank so much alcohol before. But I must have taken a lot. My memory's blank from then until the next morning. Apparently I was caught on CCTV smashing in someone's windows, something I'd never do when sober." My voice falters before I can say the next part. The part I'm least proud of. "I woke up the next morning, I'd passed out in some alleyway. There was blood, so much blood, all over my clothes. It wasn't mine."

"Who's was it then?" Simon questions me, eyes boring into mine, captivated by each word I say.

"I've no idea."

"Then how did it get there?"

"I think… I think I might have killed someone. Or just messed them up so bad they can't remember who attacked them."

"You killed someone? Again?" Fear is etched into his eyes, does he think I'm some sort of psychopath who murders as a hobby?

"I don't know! Those pills did something to me, they turned me into something I'm not." I explain, the pitch of my voice rising. I don't want him to think of me as a bad person because I'm not one. Just talking about it all over again stirs up all my regret and shame. Tears are threatening to spill from my eyes but I blink them back, I refuse to cry in front of Simon.

"It's okay. I - I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone." Simon's words bring so much relief to me because he doesn't think I'm a freak. He hasn't judged me.

I give him a watery smile and tell him I'm just going to the loo, I find the bathroom fairly easily. Turning the lock behind me, so I'm not disturbed, I crouch down, head over the toilet bowl and I slowly slip a finger down my throat and poke around a little until that dreadful burning sensation rises up in my throat and I gag a few times before puking into the toilet. I flush the sick away and go to the sink to splash some cool water on my face and to wash my mouth out with some of the mouthwash I find in the cupboard.

That wasn't too bad, was it? I could get used to this. But I won't. I promised myself I wouldn't again. This is the final time, alright, Lottie?

I reach out to unlock the door when my vision is suddenly hindered by white spots. Fuck, not again. I can't pass out - not in here, I think as I clap a hand to my forehead. I lower myself down steadily onto the toilet seat, hoping that if I'm sitting down I'll be alright. I'm wrong. I can vaguely feel myself slumping to the floor but the world fizzles out into darkness before I can stop myself.

* * *

**Simon**

I'm chewing on the last of my pizza slice when I hear a strange, choking sound emerge from the bathroom. I frown and toss the uneaten part of the pizza in my hand back into the box, before quietly stepping out of my room and edging nearer along the corridor to the bathroom. The choking noise has stopped, I daren't ask if anything's wrong in case Lottie thinks I'm intruding too much again.

The toilet flushes and there's the sound of running water, I back away slightly in case she's about to come out. I linger for a moment or two. Then there's a great thump.

"L-Lottie?" I call. No reply. "Lottie? Are you alright?" I ask, louder this time. I approach the door and tug on the handle but it's locked. Shit.

* * *

**A/N: Hi, decided to do a regular author's note at the beginning and end of each chapter now. Aren't you lucky? A double dose of Jennie in one chapter. Anyway, I don't know what it is about fainting scenes, but they're so fun to write? Don't worry, they won't become a regular thing, maybe the off hand mention in later chapters because I don't want to bore you too much with a ton of fainting scenes. I don't think they're unnecessary though, because they're a part of anorexia and many people experience dizziness or fainting following purging. I've probably confused you lot even more about Simon and Lottie's relationship, throwing an awkward kiss into the mix. Sorry about that. Well, see you in chapter five.**

**Also, who got the Skins reference? If not, go back and watch Series 3, Episode JJ. Also, if you haven't already noticed, Lottie's surname is from another Skins character. Yay for Skins.**


	5. Chapter 5: Someone Knows

**A/N: Yo. So, I'd just like to clarify something, because it's inevitable that someone is going to ask this. Lottie isn't bulimic. I know the common association with making yourself vomit up food is bulimia, but there's a difference. You make yourself sick when you're bulimic to maintain the weight you're at, whereas with anorexia you purge to lose weight.**

**In this chapter you'll be seeing how anorexia is taking it's toll on Lottie, not only physically but gradually mentally. If you think I've interpreted the mind of an anorexic incorrectly, I apologise, but I've had personal experiences and additionally I've done some research to see what other people experience. I know this is a tricky subject to tackle and I hope you think I'm tackling it well. Enjoy chapter five!**

* * *

Shit. It's locked. I call Lottie's name again but still no reply. What do I do?

I raise my leg up and start kicking the lock with the sturdy heel of my shoe, it's only a simple locking mechanism so it shouldn't be too hard to open. It takes a couple more boots before the lock gives in. I push the door open, to see Lottie passed out, sprawled across the lino floor. For Fuck's sake. Not again.

I give my brow a wipe and haul her slight frame into my arms, she's not a difficult task to carry, and take her through the corridor and lower her gently onto my bed. How could this have happened? I saw her eat. She ate half of the whole pizza. Why did she faint?

I lean in close to her mouth to make sure she's still breathing. Soft breaths leave her lips every few seconds, but I also smell the faint scent of vomit. That explains it.

Lottie stirs slightly, making a small groan. Her eyelids twitch for a moment or two before they fully open and form a frown.

"What happened?" she asks in a weary tone.

"You fainted." I explain. This feels like déjà vu. "In the bathroom. I had to kick the door open." She lets out a heavy sigh and sits herself up, rubbing her eyes, her deep red-brown hair falling over her face. "I know what you were doing in the bathroom."

Lottie immediately snaps out of her daze and panic flashes in her eyes. "It's not what you think it is." she sputters, "I - I have a tummy bug."

"Don't lie to me, Lottie! I just want to help you!" I say through gritted teeth. I don't mean to sound so intimidating but I'm trying to get the message across. "I'm not stupid. I know what you're doing. When I was in the unit there were other girls like you."

"The unit?" she queries, voice quietened after my little outburst. "And what do you mean other girls like _me_?"

Why did I have to let the fact that I was in a mental health unit slip out? Now I have to explain it all. "After I tried to burn the house down, I was sent to a mental health unit." I tell her with reluctance. "I - I think you're anorexic."

"Anorexic?" Lottie questions disbelievingly, dismay clear in her voice. "You can't just go around saying things like that." she snaps.

"I'm trying to _help you_." I insist, but she's having none of it.

"I'm not _anorexic_." she spits, pronouncing the word with a tone of pure disgust. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone, okay? It's none of your business." Lottie pulls herself up, rejecting my help, and hops off of the bed, retrieving her bag from the floor. "_I'm _not the mental one." she adds, before racing down the stairs and leaving, not forgetting to slam the door behind her.

That final comment rings in my ears and echoes around my mind for the rest of the evening. I can't believe she'd say something like that to me. I thought Lottie was nice and kind but I have her completely wrong.

She's only upset because she knows I'm right. All I want to do is help, but why should I even bother anymore? If she wants to slowly starve herself to death then so be it, I think, pacing around my bedroom. But I don't really mean it, I _do _care about her, it's only the anger talking.

* * *

**Lottie**

I can't believe him. How can he say something like that, as if he knows my whole life story? I don't know why I was even considering being more than friends with a creepy cunt who accuses me of being... _anorexic_. But below the fury, there's a part of me who believes him. It's just the rest of me that refuses to even entertain the possibility that there's something wrong with me.

Hopefully he'll stop pestering me now. I start to feel some guilt after calling him mental, but then I recall that technically he called me it first. He just doesn't understand. I don't deserve food like everyone else does, I'm not worth as much as they are. I don't know why other people can't see that I don't deserve to eat, just look at my thighs and they'll tell you.

I get back to my flat a long while before my curfew, thankfully. I kick my shoes off and slam the door shut behind me, fully aware that every loud noise you make in these flats reverberates around half of the apartment block. I don't give a shit though. I'm probably one of the most considerate neighbours you can find compared to the rest of the residents here, so I've earned my right to make a little disturbance.

I'm so fucking full to the brim with resentment right now and I just need to release it, so my hand grabs the nearest object it can find and hurls it straight at the opposite wall. Whatever I threw smashes into pieces of jagged metal and glass on the carpet. I walk, barefooted, along the floor towards the shattered mess. My feet get caught on the sharp-edged fragments of glass that litter the floor, the skin stings but the pain is the least of my worries.

I collapse into the wall, slumping down onto the ugly khaki coloured carpet, and I begin to probe the damaged segments. I'm bleary eyed, scarcely able to see what this thing was before it became a hundred pieces that make my hands weep with crimson. There's something amid all this glass and metal, I snatch up the four scraps it's been mangled into and hold them close to my face. Through the tears, my vision is indistinct, but I can just make out what these pieces in my hands are. Yet, the realisation only makes me sob so hard that my body convulses and I can barely catch a breath.

It's a photograph, the glass and metal; the photo's frame. But the impact with the wall has ruined it beyond the repair of a sliver or two of Sellotape. For a start, it's separated into four pieces, but those pieces are riddled with holes and folds and creases and little tears. I can't believe I let myself ruin my favourite photograph like that, in a stupid fit of temper.

When intact, that photo shows what my life was like thirteen years ago. I'm five years old, my parents standing on either side of me, arms around each other, beaming away as if blind to what the next year would hold. The summer sun radiates down on our elated faces as we stand by the French pier, a view of the brilliant blue, shimmering ocean is visible behind us. Oh, what it was like to be happy. Though I've long forgotten those memories of contentment now. Looking at the photo seems like I'm looking back on some former lifetime, completely separate from the shit I'm living in now.

I've got to the stage where I've been crying for so long that my head throbs, my cheeks are searing and I feel so empty that I'm utterly unable to shed another tear. I find a dustpan and brush under the sink and I clear up all the broken pieces, but I leave the torn photo on the kitchen counter. It's better than nothing, I suppose. I wash the blood from my hands and feet, the water seeps into my cuts and stings, making me suck my teeth.

I change into my pyjamas and get bundled up under the duvet. I'm lying on the mattress, eyes closed but wide awake inside for what must be hours. I try to sleep but I physically can't. I just feel so hollow and so numbingly sad, like I'm never going to experience happiness again.

At some point after 3am, I pull the covers off of me and slope into the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light. I go to the cupboard next to the fridge and reach my hand in to grope around the back and retrieve a bottle of brandy I won in a charity tombola in this church hall I went to with my mum in days gone by. It seems the right thing to drink. Whenever someone on TV has a bad experience, someone gives them a glass of brandy to calm their nerves.

I traipse back to my bed, bottle of brandy in hand, and sip at it under the covers like a baby with a bottle. Despite the bitter taste that makes me shudder at first, it seems to do the trick. When I feel myself become shrouded with fatigue, I plonk it down on the bedside table and drift into an eventual sleep.

* * *

My nap is short-lived. The alarm stirs me from my slumber just before 7am. I go about my usual morning routine, but once I reach the mirror to do my make-up I groan, tempted to smack my head on the dressing table in exasperation. I look like death warmed up. My face is paler than usual and my eyes are encompassed in thick, dark rings, so I look more like Kelly after she's cried. There's a weird taste in my mouth, a combination of vomit and alcohol, that just about disappears after several brushes of my teeth. Even after applying concealer, foundation, powder and most of the other make-up on my dressing table, I still look dead on my feet.

Fuck this, I think, as I toss the powder brush back on the table and go to get dressed, swallowing down a couple of the diet pills as well. I choose a pair of washed out, blue loose-fitting jeans, I'm not in the mood for pretty skirts today even though I'm definitely in a better mood than last night, and a monochrome, galaxy patterned tee shirt.

The only thought on my mind as I venture over to the community centre is _how am I going to face Simon_? I'm wishing I hadn't bothered to turn up today.

As always, I seem to be the last to arrive in the locker room. Everyone else is in their usual positions, I notice Simon in the back corner turn his head away to avert my gaze as I walk by. I still feel a pang of rage when I see him, so I guess I'm glad that he's trying to avoid me too.

I get changed into my overalls and then we all head outside, black bin bag and a litter picker in hand, ready for a thrilling morning of cleaning up the estate. I was one of those kids at school who'd always put their rubbish in a bin and who'd yell "litter bug" at the kids who failed to do so. It's not hard to imagine that I wasn't very popular in primary school. There's an empty takeaway carton about five paces away from a bin that I pluck up between the teeth of the litter picker and release into the bag. Seriously? You couldn't have just walked a few more steps?

"Have yous lot still got your powers?" Kelly asks while she brandishes her litter picker around in the air, in danger of taking someone's eye out.

"Yep." Alisha says. "Last night, my mum had just come home from work, yeah, and she came to my room and ended up hugging me which didn't end well. I had to wrench her _hands _off my _tits_." she shudders then lets out a drawn out sigh. Jesus, I can't imagine what it would be like to see one of your parents get all horny for you and have a grope of your boob.

"Wow." Curtis comments, while I would expect Simon to be standing there looking astonished, but he's just staring blankly at the floor as he trails the litter picker along the pavement.

"What 'bout the rest of ya, then?" Kelly questions.

Simon momentarily raises his head to nod before letting it hang down again.

"Yeah, I think so." Curtis replies.

"Hang on, don't you have a power?" Alisha asks, waving her picker in front of my face which suggests that question is directed at me.

"I don't know." I tell her, voice small.

"You were in the storm too, you probably have a power but haven't found it yet." Curtis says.

That's what I was thinking, I'm just not in a particularly jubilant state today, not after what happened last night at Simon's house.

"You was round Simon's house last night?" Kelly pipes up, undoubtedly having read my thoughts. For fuck's sake, will she please get out of my goddamn mind!? I can't have her jabbering out all my private thoughts like that, if I wanted the rest of the twats to know I would have said it out loud.

"No." Simon and I deny simultaneously, thank God he's on the same wavelength as me, I suppose it would be just as mortifying for him as it would be for me if we admitted it.

"Then how come I just heard you finkin' that?" Kelly demands.

"I - I don't know. It's not true." I protest.

"Oh my God, are you two shaggin'?" Alisha asks, her and Curtis have identical, wide grins on their faces.

"No!" I exclaim, voice growing louder. "I'd never shag _him_. Believe me." I add. I know it seems cruel but I'm still livid with him and it'll seem more believable if I say something like this. If I'm ever going to survive the remainder of this 200 hour sentence, I have to develop an act to fit in. Like that woman I recall watching a documentary about one Biology lesson, she went to some jungle to live with a pack of monkeys for a few months, and in order to fit in, she had to become like one of them by adopting their behaviours.

Alisha gives me a chuckle of approval, snickering at Simon's crestfallen face. I try not to feel regretful, seeing his dejected expression, but I focus on the fact that at least I've cleared the brief shagging rumour.

Any satisfaction I was earning out of grabbing cigarette packets and McDonald's cartons on the end of a stick and shoving them in a bag has certainly diminished by now. I amble into the underpass area which sits below a block of flats, following behind the rest. Curtis has what looks like a used tampon on the end of his litter picker, grimacing at the sight of it. Who the fuck would take that out in the middle of an underpass? That's just fucking disgusting.

"What is that?" Curtis demands in a repelled tone.

"It's a tampon, mate." Kelly smirks. "It's what girls stick up their va-"

"No! I know what a tampon is, alright? I was talkin' about _that._" he says, gesturing towards the end of the alley.

I peer past the tampon and to see something large and pale on the floor by some bins, it takes a moment for my eyes to focus and realise it's a man lying _stark-naked _on the concrete, his back to us so thankfully no genitalia is visible. I guess a used tampon isn't the most peculiar thing you can encounter on the floor of an underpass.

We edge a few cautious steps closer, curious, but guards up in case he's going to spring up and attack us, which I highly doubt as he looks pretty out of it.

"Is he breathin'?" Kelly asks, ogling the motionless, bare body.

"Hey, nude guy!" Alisha addresses, taking a further step, and giving one of his pallid arse cheeks a hard jab with her trash grabber. "You're naked." she says, nose wrinkled and upper lip curled.

The man shifts slightly, before rousing into consciousness and rolling over onto his back, unaware of his current location. When he turns over, he gives us all a full display of his private parts and Holy Mary, his dick is _big_. It's not just big; it's huge, gigantic, _colossal_. I could go on forever listing all these synonyms to describe his fucking whopper of a cock, but I won't.

Everyone groans at his showcasing, while Simon takes the opportunity to snap a photo of the thing on his phone. I don't blame him, to be honest, if I had my phone to hand I'd document this event with a quick shot of the cock, just so I could recall how amazingly huge it is. Simon now seems to be fixated on the photo on his phone screen, whereas my eyes can't leave the actual thing. It's not that I find it attractive or anything - I mean, dicks are pretty weird looking, let's face it - but I'm fascinated by those proportions.

However, my viewing session is shortly cut off when he scrambles to his feet, wide-eyed, like a rabbit caught in headlights. He's just turning to make a hasty disappearance, when he faces us again, placing his hands over his genitals.

"Are you on community service?" he asks, blinking a few times.

"No, we just like wearing orange jumpsuits and picking up litter for fun." Alisha snorts. I can't believe we're actually engaging in conversation with this naked man.

"Have you - have you seen Nathan? Nathan Young?"

"No. Don't know what you're talking about." I reply, as coolly as possible. Don't raise suspicion.

The man twitches, then takes off, scrabbling along the dirty underpass, not before skidding on a puddle of water. All the while, Alisha cackles away, pointing her stick as he races out of sight

"What the fuck just happened?" Curtis asks, just as taken aback and bewildered as the rest of us. "And how did he know Nathan?"

"Maybe it were his dad or somefink." Kelly says, it's entirely plausible, I wouldn't be surprised as it seems being a weird twat runs in the family. "But why was he naked?"

"He's obviously some kind of pervert." Alisha states. "Or he's gay." she adds, like it's a perfect parallel to being a pervert.

"That follows." Curtis retorts with sarcasm, voicing my thoughts.

"What, he's cruisin' for rough trade!" she replies in self-defense, not that I have a clue what the fuck 'cruising for rough trade' is. Whatever it means, I'll take a wild guess and conclude that it's not pretty. "They love that shit."

"A little light homophobia, go for it." he snarls.

"Or he could be a rapist, there's _loads _of 'em round here." Kelly says. Great, now the only thing I'll be thinking about when walking home tonight is the danger of being pounced on by a rapist, lurking in some dark, secluded alley. I make a mental note to not take any alternative routes through said dark, secluded alleys on my way home.

"Maybe he's a werewolf." Simon suggests, the first sentence he's uttered all day, and the most ridiculous.

"Now, that's just getting ridiculous." I tell him. Cue another one of his disheartened looks featuring those sorrowful, slate blue eyes.

"It's what happens in films; you turn into a werewolf, you kill someone then you wake up somewhere naked. Like a zoo." he explains. So he's basing this theory on fiction? Sure, I'll cut him some slack, since this whole power situation isn't the most logical. But really? A werewolf? Someone's been watching too much _Twilight_.

* * *

The room is full of them, dancing away, well, as much as their arthritis allows, to music that sounds like it's more outdated than them. Octogenarians. I suppose that's the more politically correct definition, as opposed to wrinklies or ancients or over-the-hills. They're scattered all over the main hall, sipping cheap orange punch from a Styrofoam cup and nibbling on cocktail sausages and scotch eggs with their false teeth. The way they move isn't dissimilar to how I would imagine a zombie to get around; stiffly and _very _slowly. It's barely credible to me that one day I'm going to be reduced to that. I can't say I've ever been particularly fond of old people, I've never had any grandparents so I don't know how to act around them.

Sally, the replacement probation worker, announced after our litter picking venture that for the afternoon we'd be helping out at this party for the residents of the old people's home. She allowed us to get changed back into our regular clothes as the elderly people might be a bit reluctant to dance with a bunch of young people who look like criminals.

"It'll make you seem friendlier", that's how Sally phrased it. But I don't think Kelly could ever pull of the 'friendly' look, even in her tracksuit and trainers.

The probation worker stands in front of us, a begrudging smile on her lips. "Help out, talk to them. Make sure they're having a good time." she instructs. We dither, hesitant to immerse ourselves into the horde of pensioners so we simply stand, all casting equally unenthusiastic looks at her. "M-move!"

I roll my eyes, unfold my arms and make my way into the gathering, unsure of where to begin. I don't take pleasure in making new acquaintances, especially if they're impressionable old people.

I survey the hall, everyone else seems to have already got themselves involved. Kelly is sat, slumped opposite an old man in a wheelchair, shooting him reproachful glances. Alisha has just meandered through the crowd and stormed out of the room, having been here less that minute. Curtis is making some cups of tea and Simon is dancing with an elderly lady, looking rather smothered as she hugs him tightly to her hefty bosom.

"Are you going to do anything, Lottie?" the probation worker asks, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and startling me slightly. "Because I'm pretty sure you weren't given community service to stand around and watch other people do the work."

I suppress the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes, a habit of mine when I'm growing tired of people's shit. "Sorry." I mumble, and head over to a lady sitting at a table on her own at the back of the room.

I sit down opposite her in one of the plastic chairs, she seems quite lonely and quiet, so we should get along fine.

"Hi." I say, snapping her out of her daze. "I'm Lottie, who are you?"

The woman narrows her eyes. "I'm Agnes." she replies, smoothing out her grey perm. "Now aren't you supposed to be getting me some tea? I'm parched." Agnes snaps. Jesus, I guess first impressions can be deceiving. "Fetch me some biscuits too, while you're at it."

I force a smile and saunter over to the tea trolley, to see Simon's there too, waiting for the kettle to boil. I take a cup and saucer and drop a tea bag and some sugar in while I linger.

"Why are you being like this?" Simon soon breaks the silence.

I raise an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"You've been saying such.. such _horrible_ stuff to me. You called me mental, for a start." he snaps, I feel myself twitch as the guilt builds up.

"You called me it first." I say defensively, scratching my arm.

"I _care_, Lottie. There's a difference."

"No you don't, you don't even know me!" I yell, maybe a bit too loudly as even being hard of hearing, many of the pensioners crane their necks. "I want to be your friend, Simon, you seem alright." I say, voice not quite as harsh.

The kettle makes a 'ding' to announce it's boiled and Simon pours some water into a cup, before passing it to me and I do the same.

"You want me to be your friend?" he says as he stirs the tea, corners of his lips quivering in an almost smile that tells me he's still not quite satisfied. "Sure."

"Just promise you'll stop prying in my private business."

"Promise." he says with a sigh and traipses off. At least it's a relief to know I've cleared the air. A bit.

I toss a couple of custard creams on the saucer and stroll back to the table, setting the cup and saucer down in front of Agnes.

"What took you so long?" she whines, tutting under her breath. "Teenagers today, lazy buggers the lot of 'em."

* * *

I drag my backpack out of the locker, shrug it over one shoulder and slam the locker shut, wondering how many more hours of the same, repetitive shit I'll have to endure, when Curtis announces something in a hushed, but panicked tone that strikes fear in my stomach, making it churn with a massive case of the butterflies.

"Someone knows." Curtis says, clutching a piece of paper in his hands that reads 'I KNOW WHAT YOU DID' in sloppily cut letters from newspapers. "They know we killed our probation worker."

Everyone looks on in dubiety, but they gather round to see the note.

"Is this a wind-op?" Kelly demands, skeptically. "Did one of yous make it?"

"Not me." Alisha scoffs while she applies a touch of lip gloss.

"Me neither." I tell her.

"Nor me." Simon adds.

"Well, it wasn't me." Curtis snarls.

"Whoever it was, they don't have any evidence, do they? Or we'd have been arrested by now." I assure, mostly for the comfort of myself but also to receive some sort of confirmation of my theory.

"Yeah, she's right. Whoever did it wants us to freak out, so we just act normal." Kelly says.

Curtis shakes his head, screws up the note and stuffs it back into his locker. It's easy for her to say 'just act normal', but now I'm speculating as to who put it in there. Were we witnessed in the act? No, it'll only be a suspicion. They have _no proof_. Nothing to worry about, right?

* * *

**A/N: Aloha! I'm going back to school today *major sad face* so I might not be able to post chapters as frequently what with homework, coursework and such. A lot of you have been saying you miss Nathan in your reviews, don't worry, he'll be back soon. I'm sure he survived that blow to the head. But I hope you like how I've mixed the plot up a little, I want to make things a bit different and not so predictable.**

**So, do you think Lottie's finally managed to stop Simon pestering? Nah. She won't have cleared the air that easily, right?**

**Also, who spotted the How I Met Your Mother reference? I have a habit of referencing other TV shows. Leave a review if you spotted it, or if you didn't and I'll reply back letting you know the reference. Do any of you watch How I Met Your Mother? You should, it's brill. Okay. Bye for now!**


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